


A Gathering of Bones

by dreabean



Series: The Bone Collectors [2]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Bone Charm Creation, Canon Asexual Character, Corvo is also Done with your Shit, Curing the Plague, Dad!Daud, Daud is Done with your Shit, Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, F/F, Leviathans, M/M, Madness, Magic, Multi, The Other one where Daud has a Heart, The Outsider is Gone, The Void, Whale Satan Approves, Wreckage and Recovery, because magic that's why - Freeform, shenaningans, witchery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-10-11 16:31:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 70,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10469364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreabean/pseuds/dreabean
Summary: [Sequel to The Omen in the Bone]Daud, Corvo and Emily race to return to Dunwall, the place where it all began. With the Outsider missing - or dead - and Corvo's Void magic going haywire, they've got more than just witches to fight. None of them are prepared for what they'll face when they finally cross the blockade.This Dunwall is Delilah's world now.





	1. 1. CORVO

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Troodon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Troodon/gifts).



> I told you lot I wouldn't make you wait forever. <3 
> 
> As ever, this chapter and story is because of Troodon, my beloved twin. A special mention to everyone who continues to encourage me (so um, _everyone_ ) and for all the friends I've made (here's lookin' at you Es, Starbunny, Aeniala, Kess, Taywen and Brendwell) because of this fandom. Thank you, all of you, mentioned or not, for your encouragement, criticism, reblogs, comments, or in general love. Lex, Sera, Sasha - you three have always been my fic cheerleaders, even going so far as to _buy the games and play them just to read this_ jesus christ, I love you. 
> 
> As ever, I can be found [on Tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/), for anything and everything. I follow back, and love conversation.
> 
> Everyone - ladies, gentleman, friends, brothers, sisters and all... Welcome back to Dunwall.

The Undine is filthy, small, and Corvo hates traveling by water with an intensity that burns. He’s meant for open air, and wind, and currents and clouds. Whoever decided traveling this way was a good idea is a colossal lickspittle choffer and Corvo will gladly visit murder and pain upon them.

He’ll visit murder and pain on Daud too if the bastard doesn’t stop laughing at him.

“I’ve never seen you this discontent,” Daud protests at Corvo’s vicious glare. “It’s like you’re an entirely different person.”

Corvo snarls, hunkering further into the blankets on the bed. “I hate you and everything you stand for,” he grumbles, sick and nauseated. The ship hits a particular rough swell of water and his stomach lurches violently, forcing him to swallow down sour saliva. 

Daud’s expression softens which might be worse than the laughter and he reaches out and runs his fingers through Corvo’s damp, sweaty hair. “Alright, I’ll see if I can find you something to help settle your stomach.”

“I’m a witch, I should have something,” Corvo says, annoyed. “I don’t, of course, because I’d successfully forgotten how awful this is.”

Kissing his forehead, Daud urges him to lay back down. “I’ll find something,” he says again. “Just try to get some sleep. We only have a few days left.”

In the end, it had taken two weeks to gather all they needed to return to Dunwall. Sokolov and Piero had finally finished their Cure, and they both had decided to return to Gristol with the Whalers, leaving Hypatia to Addermire. She’d opened it to the public again, continuing her work on the Lung Disease, much to Stilton and Theodanis’ happiness.

Theodanis had gotten them a Writ to get them into the blockade. It was a few miles offshore from Dunwall, but the Undine was equipped with enough rowboats that they could slip through silently in the dead of night. 

Most of the Whalers had stayed behind, and Daud had left Gaila in charge during their absence. Thomas had refused to stay behind, and the Twins, Rinaldo and Rulfio had insisted on accompanying them as well. Pip came with, swearing that he owed Corvo for the bone charm and refusing to be talked out of it. 

While everyone leapt to plan their grand entrance, Corvo stayed out on the roof, learning to navigate his new powers. He didn’t like them, they felt like they belonged to someone else, but he could use them without much trouble. 

They were more violent than he was used to, aggressive and utterly opposite the magic he’d been given by the Outsider. Thinking of the Outsider still hurts like a son of a bitch, and Corvo rubs his chest absently. 

By habit, he covers his left arm and hand, leaving his tattoos bare, even if the fiction isn’t necessary anymore. Better to look the part, he’d told Daud. 

Emily, proving that she was more Jessamine’s daughter than his, loves sailing. On clear days, when the sea is calm - or calm enough - Corvo manages to walk along the deck, and constantly calls for Emily to  _ climb down from there this instant. _

The captain of the Undine, a scarred up, tattooed woman named Lizzy has threatened more than once to kidnap Emily for a life of piracy. Emily of course loves the idea instantly. Daud is no help.

“Hey,” Daud says gently, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Here. Liz gave them to me, says they’re supposed to help your sickness.”

Corvo wants to ask why she hasn’t given them up before now but he’s a little afraid he’ll vomit if he opens his mouth. The tin holds a few pieces of dull yellow candy, which is slightly sticky and viscous to the touch. 

He shoves one into his mouth, finds it chewable, and nearly vomits anyway. The acrid taste of ginger explodes on his tongue and Corvo chokes on the bitter root. Despite its unpleasant gummy feeling and the horrible taste, it works enough that his nausea abates. 

“Better, thank you,” he says, glad he doesn’t have to grit his teeth and breathe slowly after speaking. 

Daud slips into the bed behind him, curling up around Corvo’s back, holding him steady. Corvo turns over in his arms, pressing his face into Daud’s chest. He feels utterly miserable, sick and exhausted. His chest hurts, a dull sorrow he hasn’t been able to defeat, even in the near month it’s been since Jess and the Outsider’s disappearance. 

He’s been a bear, he knows he has. Daud has been remarkably patient with him, and Corvo aches with the depth and strength of emotion for him. He kisses Daud’s shoulder, a habit now, and Daud tightens his grip. “You seem better,” Daud rasps, resting his chin on the top of Corvo’s head.

“I still hate this boat,” Corvo says acidly. He mellows at Daud’s chuckle though, and relaxes into the caress of Daud’s hand up and down his spine. “But the ginger helped. And this helps more. I’m sorry I’ve been awful.”

Daud snorts, continuing to run his hand up and down Corvo’s back with varying pressure. “It’s fine, you’ve been the pinnacle of perfection up until now, you’re allowed a few off days.”

That makes him smile. “Pinnacle of perfection, hm?” he asks, looking up just enough to catch Daud’s eyes.

“Don’t let it go to your head, Crow,” he grumbles. 

Corvo grins, sliding up the bed enough to kiss Daud without craning his neck. “Oh no, I’m never letting this one go,” he says, “You think I’m perfect. I’m telling  _ everyone." _

Daud narrows his eyes. “You will not.”

“I absolutely am,” Corvo says smugly. “What’re you going to do about it?” 

Growling in a way that absolutely raises heat in Corvo’s blood, Daud rolls them over on the bed, tangling them in the blankets and pressing them together intimately. 

Corvo goes limp against the bed, letting Daud put as much or as little pressure on him by his own choice. They haven't been intimate since the day before everything went wrong though they've come close a few times. Daud isn't always comfortable and Corvo has been preoccupied with not letting his strange magic get out of control.

Daud leans down, balancing most of his weight on his elbows by Corvo's shoulders and kisses him. It's obviously a test, a barely there press and Corvo tilts his head into it. 

Taking that as permission, Daud applies himself to kissing the breath out of Corvo’s lungs. Corvo grips Daud’s biceps, pulling him gently closer, and Daud laughs softly against his mouth. “Eager, are we?” he asks. His tone is light but Corvo can hear the trepidation behind his words.

So Corvo presses a soft kiss to his cheek. “Just glad that the nausea is gone,” he says.

Daud rolls his eyes. “Corvo, you are aware I'm not going to break, right?” he demands, scowling. 

Corvo lifts an eyebrow, giving him an unimpressed face. “Of course you aren't,” he replies. “Don't be ridiculous. I think that's it become fairly obvious that I enjoy your touch, and I definitely enjoy it when you're close to me.” 

“Then say that,” Daud says. He kisses Corvo again before he can reply, and Corvo submits to the demanding kisses with ill grace. But Daud is relentless, biting Corvo's bottom lip, sweeping his tongue across the sting, before doing it again, peppering kisses along the seam of Corvo’s lips.

The ship chooses that moment to hit a particular rough swell, causing Daud to lose his balance and land the rest of the way on top of Corvo. 

There’s absolutely no hiding how hard he is from just a bit of kissing now. 

Daud freezes like he's been stabbed and Corvo didn't think he had enough blood left in his body to blush, but he can feel it rising up his throat. “Well,” Daud says, strained. 

Corvo notices it immediately, that Daud is just as hard as he is, like when they'd done this the first time. He doesn't necessarily understand why Daud feels the way he does, but he respects that it's the way he is. It's easy enough to adapt to - until the universe at large conspires against them. “You can move,” Corvo says gently. 

Daud pulls back, slowly so he's sitting up and straddling Corvo’s thighs. Nothing sensitive is touching in that position but Corvo still feels gratifyingly pinned. He appreciates the illusion, at least, even knowing how many escape routes he has available to him.

“Still good?” Daud asks, flushed himself.

Corvo nods. “I'm alright. Annoyed at the Void forsaken ocean.”

Daud obviously stifles a snort at his ornery comments and leans down to kiss him again. He slides his hands up Corvo's stomach, slipping under the loose, untucked shirt he's been sleeping in, fingernails trailing up his sides.

Prickles break out over his skin and Corvo bites back a low groan. He barely manages to keep his head together to kiss back as Daud traces random patterns and designs over his belly, ribs and chest, and Corvo would dearly love to know who taught Daud how to tease so he can find them and kill them.

With Daud’s weight on his thighs, he can't move his legs overmuch, and Corvo tests how that feels as Daud lays his hands on Corvo's chest and holds steady for another rough swell of waves. 

It's still good, for now, especially with Corvo's hands free to clutch at the pillow or Daud’s jacket.  As soon as the ship stops rocking, Daud is back at it, fingers finding Corvo's nipples with unerring precision. 

Corvo arches hard, entirely without his permission, back bowing under the strain. Daud smiles, a quick, pleased flash before he leans down kiss Corvo again. He bites Corvo's lower lip as he pinches both his nipples at once and Corvo nearly comes off the bed.

He's dangerously close to coming and his pants haven't even come off.

Daud pushes his shirt out of the way, rubbing his thumbs over Corvo’s nipples in small concentric circled that drive his brain right out of his head. He's barely aware of the half whimper, half keening noises he's making into Daud’s mouth.

When Daud trails his kisses from Corvo's mouth to his neck and shoulder, he turns his face into the pillow, biting it hard when Daud sucks a fresh mark into the skin there.

Shit, fuck, he's going to come in his pants like a green boy who's never been touched before. 

Daud pinches his fingers again and Corvo jerks hard, whining with the sharp sensation. “You're close,” Daud says wonderingly. “From just this.”

“What can I say?” Corvo grinds out from between his gritted teeth. “I like your hands on me.”

Daud flashes another smile at that, this one distinctly dangerous. “You’re the one who likes to talk so much,” he says, pulling his hands away. “What do you want?”

Corvo contemplates his answer, rejecting the first four he comes up with immediately. “I would like to not come in my pants,” he says after a second. “It’s messy and I'm not fourteen.” 

Snorting, Daud gets off his lap, helping him remove the rest of his clothing, before taking up his position again. Corvo is completely naked in their sea of blankets while Daud is only missing his jacket. Thankfully, Corvo isn't ashamed by much of anything, even if his cock seems very large between them.

Daud frowns down at him. “I didn't realize how intimidating this position is,” he says apologetically. “Do you need me to move?”

Corvo shakes his head. “I'm good,” he says. “I can move easily, and you're not holding my wrists.”

“Oh, good.” With that, Daud slings his hand around Corvo’s cock, stroking just lightly enough to spread fluid down him. 

“Fuck, shit, Void,” Corvo swears, breath sobbing out of him.

Daud strokes him again, just lightly with his fingertips. “You know,” he says, meditative and thoughtful, “I think I like teasing you.”

The resulting frustrated groan is anything but fake and Corvo fights not to arch up into Daud’s grip. His retort is blown to bits when Daud tightens his grip and fists him with the perfect amount of pressure from base to tip.

Corvo jerks hard, body sensations spinning wildly out of control. Pleasure is turning his blood to syrup, punching a hard curl of desire through his gut. He's a second from coming all over himself and Daud,  damn him, seems to know that.

He lets go.

Corvo very nearly screams, instead turning it into a choked off snarl. Daud laughs, and Corvo scowls at him. He's sticky, too warm, and his muscles keep firing oddly, twitching randomly. 

“You’re not complaining that hard,” Daud points out. “Still good?” Corvo nods and Daud smiles knowingly.”Use your words, Crow.”

Corvo scowls harder. “Still good,” he growls. 

He notes that Daud flushes a little at the register and makes a mental note to explore that later. He doesn't have time to think on it now, as Daud strokes his hand down Corvo's cock again and starts up a smooth yet brutal rhythm. 

The friction is perfect and Corvo has stopped trying to bite back his noises, as he writhes in Daud’s grip.

He's right on the edge of coming, feeling it race down his spine and pool in his hips when Daud sacrifices his balance to reach out and pinch Corvo's left nipple hard between two fingers.

He doesn't even have time to warn Daud. He comes with a shout, collapsing bonelessly into the blankets still twitching lightly with the aftershocks. He's half aware of Daud getting up, opening his eyes to watch him move across the cabin for the pitcher of water. 

Daud is quiet and methodical as he cleans himself and then brings over a cool cloth to tend to Corvo. “You don't have to do that,” Corvo says sleepily.

“I like taking care of you,” Daud says quietly. 

Corvo smiles, turning into his touch. “Am I your kept man?”

“You're far too much trouble for that,” Daud murmurs with quiet humor. Corvo scowls at him, eyes catching on Daud's easy smile. It softens the lines of his face, and though Daud will never be considered classical handsome, he is striking and imposing. Corvo aches a little inside when Daud  aims that look at him.

He can tell from Daud's position that he's still hard, there's a damp spot along the left leg of his sleeping pants. Corvo can feel how Daud stiffens at his notice so Corvo leans up on elbow to kiss him. 

“Still good?” he asked, leaning his temple against Daud's.

“Mm,” Daud agrees. “Still good.” 

Corvo pulls Daud down into the bed, allowing him to face the opposite way, back to front, and presses another kiss to the top of his head. There's a strange feeling welling up beneath his breastbone, a fullness that he doesn't quite understand. 

If this was seven years ago, he'd have leaned over and murmured ‘I love you’ into Jessamine’s ear. 

It strikes him then, that this could be love. It feels wrong to be falling in love with someone when the entire world has gone to shit. But Corvo's heart is over full and he knows love when he feels it.

He opens his mouth, then closes it, instead giving Daud another kiss on the shoulder. “Good night,” he murmurs. 

It's too soon to say anything else.

*

The Blockade is a Void forsaken mess. 

The main ships string a Wall of Light from a foot above the water all around the Port and walls of Dunwall, and below the machinery are thick heavy chains that Lizzy reports go “straight to the fuckin’ bottom of the sea.”

“Boss?” Pip asks in a murmur. “How are we supposed to pass through that?”

Corvo and Daud exchange agonized looks. He reaches under his Crow mask to rub his forehead as Daud says, “I suppose we may be safe enough to cross as we’re not coming from Dunwall?”

He doesn't think that's very likely, and Sokolov snorts as he stomps up the stairs to the deck. “So soon have you forgotten me, old friend?” he grumps. “I created the damn things. I can get us by.”

“You mean we can,” Piero corrects, coming up behind him. He pushes his glasses up his nose, peering myopically at Sokolov. “I improved upon the design after all.”

Sokolov curls his lip. “The deviant sex machine you created for the Golden Cat--!”

“Enough,” Daud says mildly, but the threat undercurrent in his tone is explicit. “Anton, how do we get through the Wall?”

Sokolov points to the largest ship, a Tyvian galleon with armed cannons and arc pylons dotting its copper plated sides. “The generator for this line will be housed there. Someone will have to sneak aboard and rewire it to include our genetic signatures.”

Thomas snorts derisively. “No one in their right mind is getting into  _ hagfish infested waters, Sokolov.” _

Corvo sighs. “I can do it,” he says. 

Frowning at him Thomas shakes his head. “You may be the king of Crows but I don't think that applies to  _ sharp toothed fish!” _

“I don't need to swim,” Corvo says lightly. “I am still blessed with void powers. They just aren't from our mutual friend. I can still Blink.”

Daud hisses through his teeth. “You are not going over there on your own!”

Corvo shrugs. “You have any better ideas?” He doesn't and Corvo knows it. “I can Blink, and I can move quickly and quietly. And, if I'm seen, they will report that a witch in a crows mask infiltrated them. They won't know who I really am.”

Sokolov inserts himself between them, scowling up at Corvo. “And just who is that, Master Crow?” he growled. “I've been very patient, waiting for someone to tell me what I want to know!”

He thinks about it, turning the pros and cons over in his head before he sighs. “Fine. We'll carry enough secrets once we get to the Wrenhaven Waterfront. You may as well be told.” He turns away from Sokolov’s eyes and unhooks his mask, letting it hang from his belt. He flips up the hood to his jacket, and looks over at Sokolov. “Hello, Anton.”

Sokolov is slack jawed, staring at him like he's seen a ghost - which, in a way, he has. “Corvo Attano,” he says. 

Corvo inclines his head. “Yes.”

In a sudden, jerky movement, Sokolov lurches across the space between them and grabs him in a quick, hard, hug. “Outsider’s eyes,” he swears. “I didn't know. I would have found a way to get you out of Coldridge, I swear it. We heard you were dead!”

He tries not to startle too badly when Sokolov grabs him but judging by the annoyed glower on Daud’s face, he fails. Patting him gingerly on the back, Corvo extricates himself from the embrace. “Well, I wanted it that way,” he says. “As far as I knew, my daughter was dead, everyone thought that I’d murdered Jessamine. It was time to pick up the pieces of my life and go home.”

Sokolov looks like he wants to say more but Daud interjects. “You’re still not going,” he says.

Corvo lifts an eyebrow at him. “I’m still waiting on your better idea.”

Daud’s mouth sets into a mulish expression and he sighs, looking away. “You know I don’t have one.” 

“Then it’s settled,” Corvo says with a lightness he doesn’t feel. “Sokolov, the wire tool, if you please.” He held out his hand, the covered one, and waited patiently for Anton to give it over to him. “Don’t worry so much,” he adds. “I’ll be fine.”

He accepts a hug from Emily, ruffles Pip’s hair. Daud follows him to the end of the ship, where the distance between them and the next blockade piece is shortest. “Don’t you dare die,” Daud warns him. 

Leaning in and kissing him quickly, Corvo pulls him into a hard hug. “Have some faith in me,” he says, and clasps his mask back on, pulling up his hood. “I’ll be back soon.”

Daud takes a step away, hands clenched into fists, and Corvo turns to look at the edges of the ship they’re next to. He draws in a deep breath, reaches out for the Void, and  _ Blinks. _

He flickers into existence on the prow of the Morley ship next to the Undine, and he crouches down into the shadow of the long yardstrum, looking for another hidden area. His Blinking has changed from what he used to be able to do - but his range has increased dramatically.

He steps off the prow, Blinking over to the next ship, and when a guard patrol walks too close to his hiding spot, he ends up in the nest of the mainsail. 

Corvo waits, hunkered down and patient for the patrol to go around the corner before he Blinks over to the next ship. There’s a guard in front of him, taking a piss off the side of the boat, and Corvo neatly knocks him out, hiding him between two crates before dropping off the side of the ship to hang on to a rope there. 

He jumps from one ship to the other, hitting the side of the ship with a slam. He climbs up to the ledge, shoulder aching from where he hit it, and peers through an open window. The room inside is empty, and Corvo Blinks inside. 

Everything aches, faintly, and he recognizes the first signs of overexertion easily. He’ll have to be more careful on the way back. 

Peering through the keyhole, Corvo watches a guard walk by, muttering to himself about shit commissions, before Corvo grabs him around the neck and drags him into the side room.

Divesting the guard of his key, Corvo Blinks over to the generator door and unlocks it quietly. 

It takes him a good minute and a half to find the right console to add the wire tool to, but once it’s done, Corvo heaves a sigh of relief. 

He closes the panel box, and stands up straight from his crouch, and freezes in place as the barrel of a gun presses against the back of his head.

*


	2. 2. DAUD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Emily couldn’t lose him again._
> 
> He _can’t lose Corvo again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my beloved Dani, as always, with special love and thanks to Aeniala, Starbunny, BittyBeans, taywen, Es, khanartist, Lex and Sera. I love you all so much.
> 
> This chapter introduces another OC, by name of Gerome Burton - I lovingly stole him from Dani's own story, [Legacies](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8637850), with permission, obviously. His story is much the same as it was from her Dishonored universe, though he never became a whaler. 
> 
> I also want to extend a special thank you to all the people who have drawn me art, reached out on tumblr or simply just left comments and kudos. You make my life a better place. Thank you.

The sound of a pistol roars through the silent dusk, and Daud’s heart stops. Emily slams against the railing of the ship, a hand clamped over her mouth. Another pistol shot goes off, and then there’s a Void awful screech.

Daud’s heard that sound before, Corvo is alive at least. 

Another screech fills the air, and then everything goes silent again. Daud paces the edge of the deck, anxious and angry. He knew that Corvo shouldn’t have gone off by himself. He should have stopped him or gone with him, something - they’d already lost him once. 

Emily couldn’t lose him again.

_ He _can’t lose Corvo again. 

Emily suddenly comes up to him, face too pale and she wraps her arms around one of his, forcing Daud to stop moving. “Dad?” she asks, tremulously.

Daud knows that he should reassure her, tell her that her father is going to be alright, but this entire situation is so far out of his know-how that he just doesn’t know if that’s true. So he tugs her closer, tucking her head under his chin, and murmurs, “it’s going to be fine. He’s fast, and smart, and he has magic. He’ll be back soon, you’ll see.”

It's another five minutes of agonized waiting before Corvo hauls himself over the edge of the Undine, and Emily bolts to his side. “Daddy!” she cries. “Are you hurt? What happened?”

Corvo tugs off his mask, letting it fall to the deck. “I got caught by the engineer. I did manage to get the wire tool into the device but they know a witch is around now.”

Daud curbs the urge to follow Emily across the deck. “Then we need to go, right now.” 

Emily races away, nearly tripping over her long whalers coat to get downstairs. Daud takes that moment to go to Corvo. “Sorry for worrying you,” Corvo says with a smile. “Still not used to these powers.”

Daud sighs, stepping into his space and kissing him gently. “I'm old enough,” he grumbles. “Stop taking years off my life.”

Corvo grins against his mouth. “No promises.”

Daud would love to berate him further, but Emily comes back, Thomas, Pip and the Twins right behind her. Lizzy follows a second after, two oars hefted over her shoulders. “Alright you lot,” she drawls. “Take the skiff in the back, s’it’s got no motor so it ain't gonna make no noise.”

“Thank you again, Liz,” Thomas says, and she waves him off.

Getting everyone into the skiff is a chore, Emily is forced to sit on Daud's lap, while Pip sits on Corvo's, but they make it work.

Daud holds his breath as they cross the Wall of Light but they slide through uncontested, and Corvo's shoulder slump where they're pressed against his own. “Where to, Crow?” Rulfio asks, a quiet reverent hush in his voice.

“Around the cliffs, there,” Corvo says, pointing into the gloom. “There's a bar, I don't know if my old friends still live there but, it's worth a shot.”

It takes too fucking long to get there, and Daud's ass and legs have long since gone numb from Emily's weight. The twins manage to get them right up to the bank, and they stumble out with small curses of relief. “Tell me we don't need to travel much further,” Daud hisses at Corvo, propping up a drowsy Emily and holding Pip by the shoulder so he doesn't walk into anything.

“Just along the shore,” Corvo promises. He points, and in the low fog and gloom of pre-dawn light, Daud can see a boat. Squinting, Daud tries to read the name but without Void Gaze, his eyesight is terrible and getting worse.

Together, keeping to the shadows, they make their way around a large half destroyed tower and walk straight into a bloody ambush.

“Hold it right there,” a female voice says sharply from the darkness. “Now, Admiral! Lights!”

Flood lights turn on and are angled down towards them nearly immediately, leaving them horribly exposed. Both Sokolov and Piero duck behind the Twins, fully expecting things to come to blows but Corvo steps up, his mask casting a sinister shadow in the spotlights.

The girl he stands in front of is Emily's height, and likely her age as well. She has frizzy red hair, and a flat square nose that's been recently broken. “Who the devil are you?” she asks, her lip curled slightly. 

“I'm looking for Samuel Beechworth,” Corvo says. “We're old friends.”

The girl looks even more displeased at that. “Anyone’s ‘old friends’ are dead by now in this shithole,” she says. 

Corvo's fingers twitch and Daud doesn't need magic to tell that he wants to take off his mask. “I've heard. I'm not from Dunwall,” he says evenly. “I came from Karnaca. If Samuel is here, tell him that.”

The girl whistles sharply, reminding him of the Howlers and a moment later, an older man comes out of the fog. He's tall, using a cane, but not hunched over, his grey hair cut close to his skull. “What's all this now?” he says, in kind tones that fit the softness of his face.

Corvo grins, exhaling in relief, and pulls off his mask. “Hello Sam,” he says gently, pushing his hood over his shoulders.

“By all that's holy,” Samuel breathes. “Corvo Attano!” He hurries his steps and Corvo meets him for a quick embrace halfway. “Outsiders eyes, I'd thought you dead long ago.”

Corvo's grin widens and he shakes his head. “I made it safely to Karnaca. But I'm back now, and I brought friends. Sam, this is Daud, my partner, his protégé, Crispin Vega, also known as Pip. Our associates, Rinaldo and Rulfio. And Sam,” Corvo reaches out and Emily goes to him. “I found Emily.”

Samuel's eyes get enormous, turning to face her. “Miss Emily, it's a pleasure to meet you.”

“Son of a fuck,” the red headed girl says. “You're the Lord Protector. That means you're… fuck, shit, Void, you're Princess Emily Kaldwin.”

Emily smiles sheepishly. “Not really a princess anymore,” she says. 

“Well,” the girl says, sweeping her arm out. “Welcome to Mayhew’s Resistance. Plague free, almost guaranteed.”

Daud clears his throat. “About that,” he says. 

Sokolov and Piero come out from behind Rin and Rulf. “We've come up with a cure,” Sokolov says with none of his usual grandeur. 

Mayhew stares. “... Alright. Sam, the rest of you, wake the adults. Get inside, and tell us everything.”

*

Daud sticks close to Corvo, using Emily as a shield. Mayhew turns out to be named Alexi, and she introduces the rest of the ‘adults’ as they come down the stairs of the multi level building. First there's Geoff and Callista Curnow, the former of whom Corvo greets familiarly, with a handshake and a smile. Then comes The Admiral, an imposing, broad shouldered man who calls himself Havelock. He's shadowed by a twitchy, sickly thin noble who says he's the last of the Pendleton line. Judging by the look on Corvo's face, he's not best pleased to hear the name.

A woman named Lydia gives Corvo a hug, promising to bring him soup when she gets the supplies in, while another red head waves shyly from the corner. “Cecelia,” Corvo murmurs to him. “She was here before too.”

A skinny man with a large mustache and bright patterned pants wanders in after everyone else, a cigar clenched in his teeth. “And that's Slackjaw,” Alexi introduces. “Late as ever.”

Corvo lifts an eyebrow and Slackjaw grins. “My cousin is still down with the kids,” he tells Alexi. “Your new friends will have to meet him there.”

Alexi nods. “Well, now that most of us are here, we have some news. Lots of it. That's Corvo Attano, the former Lord Protector. And with him is the old Knife of Dunwall. They've brought back Princess Emily Kaldwin… and a cure for the Plague.”

There's some gasping and cheering and Daud winces at his old title. Corvo leans his shoulder into Daud's, and flashes him an encouraging smile. 

Slackjaw drops his cigar, grinding the red tipped end into the floor. “Best not tell my cousin that,” he notes. “You're six months too late to save his kid.”

Before Daud can register that, Alexi throws a bottle at Slackjaw’s head. “Fuck off,” she snaps at him. “Doctors Sokolov, Joplin, we have a small workshop you can use to synthesize and recreate the cure. We've been using the old Distillery Plant and most of John Clavering Boulevard to harness and hold the Weepers. We'll have to come up with a way to distribute it.”

Corvo nods in agreement. “Tell me, what's changed - other than the obvious?”

Alexi pulls a face. “Holger Square is rubble,” she says. “So is Coldridge, more or less. The Abbey has been entirely driven out of Dunwall. The High Overseer Campbell died trying to kill her highness and her coven. As far as I know, the Abbey has written Dunwall off the map.”

“And Burrows?” Corvo asks, sharp and anxious. Daud takes his hand under the table where they sit, squeezing gently. 

“Hiram Burrows hung outside the Tower for almost a year before someone got bored and cut him down,” Alexi reports suspiciously. “Why?”

Corvo opens his mouth before his anger visibly dies on his face. “Because they killed mother,” Emily says quietly. “And they blamed my father.”

Samuel swears quietly from where he sits on Corvo's other side. “I'm sorry, Corvo.”

He nods once, but his fingers have gone tight on Daud's. “Alright,” Havelock says, looming behind Alexi. “It's early, and we have a lot to do. All of you should get some sleep. Lex, show the doctors to the Workshop. Lord Protector, Master Daud, follow me. Emily and Crispin can sleep with in the Tower.”

Slackjaw cracks a grin. “Beware of their guard dog,” he drawls.

Pip is practically asleep as it is, leaning his head on Emily's shoulder. Daud lets go of Corvo to pick him up, carrying him like a boy. 

Emily looks exhausted, leaning on Corvo. “Daddy?” she murmurs. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” he answers her, pulling her close to his side as they walk up the flights of stairs towards the Tower. 

“I miss mother,” she whispers. 

He kisses the top of her head. “So do I.”

They have to navigate a narrow plank and metal sheet walkway, ducking around a set of three dead arc pylons. Havelock unlocks the door on what must be the 3rd floor of the Tower, stepping in and neatly dodging a blade. “It's me, you idiot,” Havelock growls. “We have some guests.”

“Yeah,” drawls a low voice. “I can fuckin’ see that, can't I.”

Havelock sighs. “Gentleman, this pinnacle of chivalry and manners is Gerome Burton, Slackjaw’s only slightly less lawless cousin.” He steps out of the way, letting Corvo and Daud into the small room. “Burton, tell the man where he can put down the kid.”

Gerome glances over them, lingering on Pip and Emily in a way that makes Daud's hackles raise. “Put him here,” he orders. “I'll sleep upstairs tonight.” 

Daud puts Pip down on the bed in the corner, tucking him in with a blanket. Havelock nods in approval. “Good. Burton, that's Crispin, and his Protector, Daud. The girl is Emily, and her father Corvo Attano.”

Gerome nods along until he catches the name and puts two and two together. “Well fuck me,” he says. 

Emily yawns hugely and let's go of Corvo to amble towards Gerome. She reaches out for him, and takes his hand before he can back up. “They're already spoken for,” she says innocently. “Where can I sleep, Mr. Burton, sir?”

Before Daud's very eyes, he watches as the tattooed, foul mouthed thug softens into a kind smile and he shows her to a ladder. “This way, little miss,” he says, and all the hard angles are scrubbed from his voice. “Pick any bed up there.”

Emily turns and waves. “Love you, daddy, dad. Good night.”

Daud is _really_ going to have to talk to her about that. 

Gerome watches them with sharp eyes. “So that's the rightful Empress,” he says. “And you're the fucker who killed her mother,” he says to Corvo.

Corvo looks like he's been gutted. “I didn't,” he says quietly. “They framed me, but I didn't.”

With a bark of laughter, Gerome crosses his arms over his chest. “We're supposed to believe that?”

Havelock steps between them. “Enough, Burton,” he snaps. “Whether he did or he didn't, he found the Lady Emily and brought her - and a _Cure for the Plague-_ to us.”

Gerome goes still, eyes fixed on Corvo. “A cure,” he repeats. “Of _fucking_ course. Where were you six months ago when the guard ripped my little girl out of my arms because her eyes were bleedin’? Huh? Where the fuck were you eight months ago when my wife died in her sleep right fucking next to me?” 

Havelock looks like he's going to interrupt again, but Corvo steps around him. “Eight months ago, I was being tortured by Overseers for being a witch,” he says candidly. “And six months ago I was relearning how to walk, so I could come back here and set things right. I'm so sorry for your loss, Mr. Burton. I spent five years thinking Emily was dead - and my last memory of the woman I wasn't allowed to take as a wife is of her dying in my arms. I can't fix every wrong. But I can start with the Plague.”

Gerome sneers. “Fine,” he says. “Now get out of my tower.”

Daud tugs on Corvo's arm and with Havelock in the lead again, head back to the attic. “Samuel says this was your room before,” he says, gesturing to the bed in the corner. “You're more than welcome to it now. Callista usually stays here but she can bunk with her Uncle. Mr. Daud, come with me, I can find you accommodations in the Old servants quarters.”

Daud is caught wrong footed, he doesn't want to outright say he'd rather stay with Corvo, but he also intensely does not want to sleep in a room full of people he doesn't know. 

“Daud and I have some things to discuss,” Corvo says smoothly, eyes daring Havelock to say anything. “He can find his own accommodations after. No need for you to lose your sleep waiting.”

“Of course,” Havelock says. “Lydia will be through in the morning to wake you. Good night, Lord Protector.”

As soon as Havelock closes the door behind him, Corvo sighs. His shoulders slump and he steps into Daud's space and kisses him with an intensity that leaves him breathless. “This is harder than I thought it would be,” he says, pressing his forehead against Daud's temple.

“Come here,” he says, pulling Corvo toward the bed. Gently, carefully, Daud divests Corvo of his arm wrap, vest and shirt, running his hands over tense muscles and kissing Corvo's cheek. 

He takes off his own shirt, sitting on the bed and pulling Corvo down to lay against him. It's not exactly comfortable, he's pinned and Corvo's sharp hip bone is jammed right into his groin. But it also means that Corvo's head is tucked under his chin and he can wrap his arms around him, holding him securely. 

“Go to sleep, bodyguard,” he murmurs into Corvo's hair. 

Corvo huffs an annoyed sigh, biting Daud's shoulder in retaliation. “Good _night_ , assassin,” he mutters. 

*

When he wakes up next, Daud is alone. He’d been covered, and a mug of cooling coffee on the table beside him. Tucked under the coffee, which is slightly watery, is a note written in Corvo’s familiar hand. 

Skimming the short note, Daud redresses, tying his boots tightly and clenching his left fist to transverse dow-- Oh. 

Right.

Sighing, Daud walks down the four flights of stairs, shaking out his left hand, and trying to avoid thinking about the Outsider and his missing magic. Corvo is sitting at the bar, like his note says he will be, his crows mask in front of him, and leaning into Samuel’s space. 

He’s laughing, hair loose and tucked over his shoulder. Despite the general atmosphere of squalor and the ever present feeling of impending doom, the sun is shining over the bar, illuminating the silver in Corvo’s hair. 

“No,” he’s saying, to the woman - Lydia? - behind the bar. “I’m still a witch, I just… it’s different now.”

Samuel puts a rough arm around Corvo’s shoulders, patting his back. “I’m sorry, Corvo,” he says. “I am. I know what those crows meant to you.”

“They were very much like family,” Corvo says sadly. He leans back slightly on the stool and catching Daud’s eye. “But, I’ve found another family too.”

Taking that as his cue, Daud steps into the room. As soon as he appears, Samuel stands up, holding out a hand for him. “Good morning,” he greets, “I know we went through all the introductions last night but I’m not as young as I used to be. I’m Samuel Beechworth,  and this is my bar. Welcome.”

Daud reaches out and takes his hand, and notes that despite the cane and the age weathered on his face, Samuel’s handshake is firm and solid. “Daud,” he introduces. “They used to call me the Knife of Dunwall.”

The name registers, but to Samuel’s credit, he doesn’t react beyond more than a slightly quirked eyebrow. “Well, I’m certain your skill set will not be unwanted,” he says. “We’ll have a meeting later, after Miss Curnow gathers up the littles for their schooling.”

“How many children are there?” Corvo asks, frowning.

Samuel sighs. “Nine,” he answers. “Last week we had ten.”

Daud swears under his breath. “I’ll assign Pip and Princess to them,” he promises. “They’ll keep the kids safe.”

“It’s not murder that we have to worry about,” Samuel says with a frown. “Not to put a fine point on it, but it’s the Plague, Mr. Daud.”

"Someone should check on Sokolov and Piero," Corvo adds, faintly amused. "They've been alone for twelve hours, they might have killed each other." 

Alarmed, Daud nods, stepping past them and brushing his hand across Corvo's shoulders and heading for the outside. Instead of carnage, however, he finds the front yard - much larger in the daylight than he'd expected - is filled with milling children, all holding a glass vial of bright red elixir. He looks around and finds Pip helping one of them, fingers slightly too stubby to hold the vial one handed. 

Emily is harder to find, and he finally catches her sitting on the stone wall with the tattooed scarred up man who called himself Burton.

She's laughing and shaking her head, and Daud falls into the shadows to listen in. "I'm not an assassin," Emily is protesting, holding out her hands. "No, Daud trained me to be quick, light on my feet. Taught me fingersmithing, and gave me a family when I had nothing. He became my father in a lot of ways. You don't have to hate him just because he was the Knife of Dunwall, once." 

Daud scowls, crossing his arms over his chest. Burton mirrors his position. "You're just a kid," he says. 

Emily smiles, and he hates to see how sad it is. "No, I'm not, really. I haven't been a kid since I was ten. But I'm alright, stop frowning, Mr. Burton! I'm happy.”

He snorts, clearly disbelieving and Daud frowns harder. “Void,” he swears. “The world is a right shit place when Empresses got to learn to fingersmith to survive.”

That makes her laugh, head thrown back. “I’m not a very good Empress,”she says. And when she looks up again, she obviously sees him standing by the doorway. “Dad!” she calls and Daud has to struggle to keep his face even, as he ambles over to them.

Emily immediately drops down off the stone wall to wrap her arms around him. Burton scowls at him, completely unimpressed by his appearance. “Princess,” Daud greets, wryly. 

“I was just telling Mr. Burton about our home in Karnaca,” she says. “I miss it, a little.”

Daud ruffles her hair. “I do too. I have an assignment for you,” he adds seriously, and she turns to face him fully, eyes solemn. “I need you and Pip to help Ms. Curnow, and keep the children safe. I know it's not glamorous, but these kids have lost enough.”

Emily, for a brief moment, looks like she wants to argue before she subsides. “Alright,” she agrees. “I'll help Pip and Ms. Curnow, and Mr. Burton.”

He smiles at her, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead. “Thank you, Em.”

She beams up at him, turning and heading towards Pip. If he hadn't been looking for it, he'd have missed the small hitch in her step where she'd tried to transverse. Burton’s scowl has abated somewhat - possibly at the show of affection- and Daud resigns himself to defending their choices.

He leans against the wall, a foot away from Burton. “Go on,” he says. “Might as well get it over with.”

But Burton shakes his head. “Not fuckin’ worth it,” he says, and before Daud can be offended, he stomps away.

This is going to be harder than Daud thought.

*


	3. 3. CORVO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Really? You don't frolick in the streets? Naked and covered in blood?” Alexi asks incredulously._
> 
> _Caught wrong footed again, Corvo pauses. “Uh, no?” he says. “Is that a requirement? Because that's not in my repertoire of witch actions.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, this chapter is for my beloved Dani, with a special shout out to Sera, who is sick, Lex, Aeniala, taywen, Es, and everyone who has left comments, here or on tumblr. You lot make my life a better place. <3
> 
> This one deals with some heavy Ace themes again, so I hope I've done it justice. 
> 
> You can find me [on Tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/), I follow back and love conversation. <3
> 
> Enjoy, everyone!

“No!” Daud snaps, to Corvo's intense irritation.

Alexi Mayhew seems to share his irritation because she slams a hand onto the bar. “We have _never_ had a witch on our side and the one and only way we can get past Delilah’s guard dogs is by being a witch!”

Corvo turns to face Daud, calmly meeting his eyes. “If I can help,” he says trying to curb his initial reproach, “Then I'll go under cover.”

But Daud shakes his head still. “What about m- Emily?”

As much as it pains him to admit it, he says, “Emily survived five years without me,” he says. “So to will she survive this.”

He doesn't _want_ to slip into the Royalty district and pretend to be on Delilah’s side. He has no head for machinations or lies. But Alexi is right: he is the only witch they have.

“Corvo,” Daud says, and he can hear the unhappy misery shot through the center of his tone.

They have an audience. He knows Sam wouldn't care, but he doesn't know the others nearly well enough to lean forward and kiss Daud in front of them. He settles for a rueful half smile. “I know,” he says. “I have to do this. You know that.”

Daud sits back, scowling so fiercely that Pendleton and Cecelia edge away from him. “You're telling Emily,” he snarls.

Corvo can accept that. “Tell me what I need to do,” he says to Alexi.

She nods once. “Sam can take you to Kaldwin Bridge, where there are plenty of places for you to set up shop. There are still enough citizens in the higher end district that word of your witchery can and will spread. Wallace and Cecelia will help with that, now that we have the plague cure. Take a case with you, slip it into people as best as you can.”

Havelock took over at Alexi’s glance. “Eventually Delilah will send someone to find you, and you can infiltrate the Tower from there.”

Corvo nods slowly, mind ticking over. “One problem,” he says. “How should I get messages to you?”

Havelock looked very grim and grave. “You can't. Not until you've earned Delilah’s trust.” His jaw sets and he starts Corvo directly in the eyes. “That means we will have to trust _you_ not to betray us. Delilah can offer power beyond anything you've experienced, Attano. Do not find yourself being seduced by it.”

“Power holds nothing for me,” he says easily. He's had power - and he misses his old abilities, his crows and Jess, but mostly he misses the Outsider.

Havelock doesn't look convinced. “We had another in our Resistance,” he says, and Alexi sighs heavily. This is clearly an oft repeated speech. “He delved too deeply into Delilah and went mad. The loss of Teague nearly crippled us, and I will allow that to happen again.”

Daud stiffens and Corvo jerks back, nearly upending his stool. “Teague Martin?” he asks, hoarse, his voice cracking.

“Yes,” Havelock says, apparently not noticing their reactions. “He went back to Whitecliff after Delilah reached into his head and pulled his sanity out.”

Daud growls at that, and Corvo's back burns with remembered pain. “Your precious Abbey sent him to Karnaca,” Daud says, barely restrained rage coiled in his tone. “Where he then massacred anyone who looked like a witch.”

“Including me,” Corvo adds lightly.

Havelock twitches. “What?”

Corvo straightens his spine. “Your friend was mad,” he says. “He took me off the street, and tortured me for hours.”

“But you're a witch,” Havelock says, like that excuses it.

Daud growls again and Samuel shifts on his stool. “Yes, I am,” Corvo agrees. “But I'm a witch you need, so unless you'd like to find my services withdrawn from your campaign, you'll do best to stop your current train of thought.”

Samuel stands. “It wasn't right,” he says. “What happened to either of them. It's in the past now. If Corvo is willing to go under the wire for us, then witch or not, he's a friend.”

Daud meets his eyes and Corvo shakes his head. It's not worth it, and Corvo is already tired of arguing. He subsides, but Corvo doesn't need to read minds to know that Daud is far from letting the subject drop. “When are we doing this?” he asks Alexi.

“Tomorrow night,” she answers. “Piero will have a case of elixir ready for you, and we'll arrange a drop point for you to get more. This will give you time to gather your things as well.” She frowns, looking considering. “What does a non-evil witch even do?” she asks him.

“I make bone charms,” Corvo answers. “Some to hold back the Plague, others to prevent disease and pregnancy.” He shrugs. “Potions too, but there isn't anything inherently magical about them.”

“Really? You don't frolick in the streets? Naked and covered in blood?” Alexi asks incredulously.

Caught wrong footed again, Corvo pauses. “Uh, no?” he says. “Is that a requirement? Because that's not in my repertoire of witch actions.”

Alexi just shrugs. "I have no idea. We've killed a few of the witches though, and that seems to be something they brag about."

Corvo curls his lip a little, looking down. "Well," he says stridently. "I suppose they will now have one witch who doesn't do something so ridiculously stupid." He waves a hand, trying to move the conversation on past being naked and covered in blood. "What else should I be working towards?"

"If you find able bodied persons," Havelock says, "Then you can send them our way, assuming of course, you don't send us any spies."

Void, but all this would be easier as he was, instead of who he is now. "I'll see what I can do."

"Save the kids," Burton grunts from his corner. "They're going to need it."

Corvo meets his eyes and nods once. "I'll do everything I can."

"Avoid Bottle Street," Slackjaw adds, from his place next to Burton. "That's where we've been ferrying the Weepers."

They discuss things back and forth for a while longer, giving Corvo more and more things to remember, ending with Alexi ordering him to go see Piero, in the workshop for some upgrades on his clothing.

Once the meeting breaks up, Daud disappears somewhere, but Corvo is under no illusions that Daud is going to give up on his disapproval. Instead of seeking him out, he wanders into the workshop, finding Piero with Rinaldo and Rulfio. "No, no, no," Piero says, and his airy voice misses sharp by a few country lines. "You must hold still! This is for Corvo, try to be serious."

"They're never serious," Corvo says, coming up behind them.

Rinaldo shoots him a grin over his shoulder. "If we were serious all the time, we'd just be you and Master Daud," he points out.

"Uh huh," Corvo drawls. "Don't agitate the natural philosophers," he says, patting them on their shoulders. "For they are obnoxious and good with electricity."

Rulfio looks like he takes the advice in stride because he stops fidgeting, standing still and holding up the cloth between the two of them. "Oh good, Corvo, you're here," Piero says. "I've been working on some things for you," he says. "Started tinkering in my free time at Addermire."

Corvo sits on the edge of one his work tables. "Thanks Piero," he says, surprised. "You didn't have to do that."

The philosopher waves him off, taking the cloth away from the twins. "You two have served your purpose," he says, and they scatter. "This cloth has been treated with double ablative Galvani weave, it'll keep you from taking damage if you end up in an altercation, and you'll sink deeper into the shadows."

Impressed, Corvo reaches out and touches the fabric; it feels soft, but when he presses his fingers harder against it, he can feel the fine weaving and webbing under his fingers. "This is brilliant, Piero," he says.

He snorts, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Of course it is," he says. "I should have your new outfit complete by morning."

Looking around at all the pieces scattered around the workshop, Corvo has his doubts. "I'll leave you be," he says. "Thanks again, Piero."

Corvo wanders back out into the yard, and comes face to face with Burton. "You," the thug growls, "Come with me."

Caught off guard, Corvo falls into step with the strange man. "Where are we going?" he asks, as they round the building towards a sewer pipe. "Mr. Burton?"

"Fucks sake,"Burton grumbles. "Just fuckin' call me by name, alright? It's fuckin' Gerome, not Mr. Burton." He stops at the square cover over the drainage pipe, pulling the chain to open it. He gestures to the open hole in the ground and Corvo balks hard.

"Yeah," he says slowly. "No offense meant, Mr. Burt- Gerome, but unless you tell me what I'm going to walk into, I'm not going to get into the creepy hole in the ground."

Gerome stares at him for a second before snorting out a laugh. "Fair enough," he drawls. "That's the sewer pipe that leads underneath the 'Pits, an' we've been getting fuckin' Weepers an' worse through it. Cleared it out a few weeks ago, but they're getting in through a place I can't get to. You've got magic."

Considering it, Corvo finally nods. "Fine. After you."

Chuckling again, Gerome shakes his head. "Fuck," he says. "I didn't want to fuckin' like you."

"I get that a lot," Corvo drawls, matching his tone. He leans over the chain to watch Gerome lower himself into ankle deep water, and Blinks down to stand next to him.

"Son of a fuck, you Void-damned choffer, warn a guy, Outsider's blighted eyes!" Gerome staggers back a step, hand on his sword. "Fuck."

"Sorry," Corvo says, but he can't help smiling. "Force of habit."

Gerome scowls, striding past him, muttering, "I'll force your habit," in a clear temper.

They slog through filthy water down a long pipe. Corvo reaches out and grabs Gerome’s elbow, halting him. When Gerome turns to glare, Corvo holds up a finger to his lips, head tilting and listening carefully.

Low groaning from around the corner ahead filters back to them, and the sound of angry retching.

Weepers; he certainly didn't miss those.

Gerome pulls out a knife and and his sword, moving forward. Corvo sighs and follows after him.

As soon as the two Weepers come into view, they rush Gerome, and Corvo Blinks. He lands behind the furthest one, dragging him into a Tyvian chokehold and dropping him as soon as he goes limp.

Gerome swears viciously, fending off the second weeper, yelping when the woman coughs blood all over his face.

Alarmed, Corvo Blinks up to them, spinning the Weeper and punching her and sending her off to one side. Gerome pulls her into his own chokehold.

“Fuckin’ Void,” Gerome says, wiping at his face frantically.  

Corvo rips off part of his hood, catching Gerome’s chin in his hand. “Keep your eyes closed,” he says evenly. He can't use the filthy sewer water so he carefully wipes away the diseased blood from Gerome’s eyes.

“Fuck, just use the water!” Gerome says.

“Not on your life.  Hang on.” He pulls out one of the new elixirs and dumps it on the cloth. He wipes it across Gerome’s eyes until all the blood was gone. “Alright. You're clear.”

Gerome opens his eyes and immediately averts them. “Thanks,” he mutters gruffly.

“Think nothing of it. Drink this.” He presses the last of the elixir into Gerome’s hands.

Gerome takes it, moving past Corvo and deeper into the tunnel. “There is a hole,” he instructs Corvo, “Up here. The Weepers come through and fall into the tunnel but we can't get up there. We managed to bring supplies to board it up but most of Slackjaw’s gang caught the Plague trying.”

Corvo snorts. “And you want me to go up there and finish the job, I assume?”

“Well when you put it like that,” Gerome mutters. “You’re the only one who can get up there without needing a ladder.”

The end of the tunnel comes up as a dead end, with water flowing out of a release valve high above their heads. Corvo eyes the distance and nods once. “I can make it, but I won’t be able to protect myself up there. Not without possibly falling.”

Leaning against the far wall, Gerome nods. “If anything comes through just let them fall and I can take care of them.”

He doesn’t really want to put Gerome in that sort of danger, but the narrow ledge is not a good standing ground either. So Corvo Blinks, balancing on the flat concrete edge and peeking through the water main. He doesn't hear anything so he grabbed the crowbar and began to force the rusty valve wheel to turn.

It moves with a screech, and Corvo flinches on reflex. The floodgate begins to close, very slowly, and Corvo feels the first breath of relief that he might be able to close the gate and get out of there before anyone gets killed.

Once the floodgate is half way down, that’s when he hears it. The sound of running feet through water. He swears under his breath, applying more of his strength to turning the damn wheel. Five Weepers burst into his view and Corvo isn’t about to let them through the gate and down with Gerome.

He draws in a deep breath and _screams_ , the force of the sound blasting all five Weepers back, tumbling over each other.

“Shit, fuck, what the fuckin’, was that _you_?” Gerome howls from twenty feet below him. “Fuckin’ Void, warn a guy!”

“Consider this your warning!” Corvo shouts, just before _screaming_ again. The Weepers fall back to the floor, and Corvo hauls all of his strength into closing the valve. He’d fling thorns at them, but they’re too stupid or too sick to avoid them and he doesn’t actually want to kill any of them.

The valve closes just before the three in front make it to the gate, and Corvo can hear them thump up against the metal door, one after another. He Blinks down beside Gerome who is staring at him wide eyed. “Void,” he mutters. “You really are a witch, just like the rest of ‘em out there.”

Corvo sighs. “Trust me, this is just as strange for me as it is for you,” he bites out. “I’ve had a month to figure out why my magic went wrong, but this is what I’ve got left to me. I’m sorry, if it reminds you of things better left forgotten.”

Gerome grimaces, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. “Shit,” he mutters. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he says. “Especially after you fuckin’ went out of your way here. Shit.” He offers Corvo a hand, holding it out to shake. “You aren’t half bad, for a witch,” he adds, when Corvo takes his hand to shake it.

“Thanks,” he says dryly. “You’re not half bad for a Bottle Street Thug either.”

“Aw shucks, you’ll make me blush,” Gerome drawls, and they head back to the sewer grate together. “Ugh, this is the worst fuckin’ part, needing to climb out,” he says, stepping up to the chain.

Corvo calculates the distance to Blink and Gerome’s weight before he says, “I have a faster way, if you’re willing to extend a little trust.”

“Sure,” Gerome says. “Can’t be any worse than touching the slimy ass chain the--” He’s cut off as Corvo tugs him close and Blinks them up to the surface. Once they’re back on solid land, he lets go and Gerome staggers awkwardly. “Fucksticks,” he says meditatively. “I am never doing that again.”

It’s probably uncharitable to laugh as the thug turns green and sits down hard on the stones, but Corvo can’t help himself.

It’s the first time he’s laughed since the Outsider disappeared from his arms on a rooftop in Karnaca.

At this point, he’ll take what he can get.

*

He finds Daud by the time dinner is over and he’s been instructed to go to bed by at least four people. Corvo walks into the attic room only to find himself slammed back against the door once it’s closed behind him. Daud looms over him, his face stern and a little red around the ears.

Corvo lifts an eyebrow at him. “And where have you been all day?” he asks.

But Daud kisses him instead of answering, pressing Corvo into the wall. There’s a momentary flash of alarm at that, until Daud laces their fingers together and gives him something to hold onto. Corvo kisses him back, attempting to gentle the onslaught, but Daud is clearly having none of that.

He attacks Corvo’s mouth, biting his lower lip when Corvo tries to tilt his head and on the heels of the adrenaline surge is lust.

So he relaxes against the door, kissing Daud and clinging to his fingers.

Once he’s gone limp against the door, Daud immediately lets his hands go in order to shove his coat off his shoulders, ripping the vest under it hard enough to scatter buttons all over the floor. He makes a shocked noise that Daud immediately kisses away.

As soon as Daud has gotten to the skin of his neck and shoulders, he trails kisses down from Corvo’s mouth to his jaw. “Daud,” Corvo says, half a plea, and half a protest.

“I’m good,” Daud says, and doesn’t stop pressing open mouthed kisses against Corvo’s pulse point.

Corvo laughs breathlessly, twitching when Daud bit down gently. He wants to ask if he’s certain, but then Daud _bites_ and every coherent thought flies out of his head. Corvo can’t stop the way he surges up against Daud, biting back a groan. Daud starts sucking marks - he can feel the pressure of Daud’s mouth against his neck - and Corvo writhes with it.

His foot slips on his ruined vest, and Daud crowds him closer to the door, one of his thighs braced between Corvo’s legs.

He’s hard, harder than he’s ever been in recent memory, and Corvo can barely remember not to rut up against Daud.

On the other hand, Daud seems to have no compunctions, as he presses himself closer to Corvo’s body, hand slipping under his shirt to brush over Corvo’s left nipple. Daud bites him again, teeth sinking into a mark he’d already left, pinching with his fingers and Corvo’s willpower fails him. He jerks hard in Daud’s grip, grinding against the thigh he’d pressed against Corvo’s cock.

Corvo can tell that Daud’s just as hard as he is, and he attempts to shift his leg out of the way, though respecting Daud’s boundaries gets more difficult the closer Daud crowds him.

When Daud bites him again, he cries out, and he can feel Daud’s grin against the bruised skin of his shoulder. “Fuck, Void, Daud,” Corvo good intentions fly out of the window when Daud presses his leg against his erection, dragging slowly against it.

His breath sobs out of him, and Corvo has no idea where this came from, what brought it on, but Daud is grinning fiercely against his skin and he can’t bring himself to care. When Daud feathers his thumb over Corvo’s nipple, grinding his thigh into his cock, he nearly comes unglued. “Daud,” he says, or rather shouts, a hint of a keening whine hooking into his voice.

“Close?” Daud asks, a strange note in his voice, and Corvo nods, trying to catch his mouth in another kiss.

Instead, Daud kisses him only briefly, returning to the skin on Corvo’s shoulder. He presses his leg harder into Corvo, and bites down on his shoulder hard enough to draw blood.

Corvo howls. The world goes white and then black very quickly, as pleasure slams into him and drags out. He comes into his pants, back arched hard enough that only his shoulders are touching the door.

Distantly, he notices Daud’s body jerk against his, and a hot dampness spreads across the leg that he has rucked up between Daud’s.

He can’t quite get his legs under him and Daud lets go of his hand and hip to hoist Corvo up by the still trembling thighs, and half carries him, half leads him back to their bed. He kisses Corvo gently and brushes sweat damp hair out of his eyes. “Sleep,” Daud says, his rough voice even lower and deeper.

Corvo manages to pull his brain back online long enough to catch Daud by the hand. “Stay?” he asks, exhausted.

Daud kisses his knuckles. “I shouldn’t,” he says. “Someone is bound to notice that I’m sleeping up here. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He wants to protest that, but he knows it’s logical. Even without the Abbey living and breathing inside Dunwall, relationships between men are highly suspect - enough so that the stigma will likely remain. Besides, Havelock is a military man, and they can’t afford to alienate their only allies. So Corvo nods, and pulls Daud in for a real kiss. “Good night,” he says softly.

He lets Daud’s fingers slip through his.

*


	4. 4. DAUD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Emily," Corvo murmurs._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _"I know," she whispers back. "I'm sorry."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work week was truly terrible, but it did serve one thing: I wrote a TON of Gathering. 
> 
> This chapter is, as ever, for my beloved Dani, Lex, Sera, Estora, Aeniala, Starbunny and Taywen - thank you everyone for your support. I love you.
> 
> I can be found [on Tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/), for all your needs. I follow back :)

Daud is panicking.

Corvo’s eyes, silver blue and half lidded haunt him all the way out the door, down four flights of stairs and out into the courtyard. They’d been open, guileless,  _trusting_. He’d genuinely wanted Daud to stay with him. He’d genuinely wanted to stay.

They’d gotten complacent, back in Karnaca. Surrounded by the Whalers, and the decadent social structure untouched by - or ignoring - the Strictures. 

And then what he’d done, against the door like an animal, he hadn’t even given Corvo the chance to speak. He was no better than the men who stole him from his home as a boy, not really. Corvo had checked in on him, even under Daud’s onslaught, but Daud hadn’t bothered to check in with him.

That isn’t even the worst part; Daud had orgasmed. 

He knows that logically that’s because of Corvo’s leg, and pressure, warmth and friction, but he knows that Corvo had noticed it. He hadn't mentioned it,  but Daud can’t help but think that Corvo will expect things to change. 

Daud feels off balance, insane, and he paces the yard back and forth a few times in order to get his body back under control. He can’t do anything about how Corvo feels - not now, and certainly not tomorrow.

He’s not going to get a chance to do or say anything until long after things are over, he realizes, sitting hard on the stone wall that breaks up the yard. He won’t have a chance to apologize, or make it up to him - none of that can come first. 

“Mr. Daud?” someone says, and if Daud still had his magic, he’d probably have gutted them on accident. Instead, he whirls, halfway to his feet before realizing Samuel Beechworth is behind him. “Oh,” he says, a second later. “I’m sorry for startling you, you seemed like you were in need of some of this.”

He holds out a mug, steam curling up in the cool night air. 

Gingerly, Daud takes it, but it doesn’t smell like coffee. “What is it?” he wonders, before taking a sip. Mint and something else explodes over his tongue and he makes a considering sound.

“Tea,” Samuel says. “Mint, and chamomile, for helping you sleep. My wife’s remedy for a sleepless mind.”

Daud blinks at him over the top of the cup. “I hadn’t realized you were married,” he says.

“Oh, yes. Long time ago now,” Samuel says lightly, remembered pain still on his face. “Her name was Amaranth. She died,” he adds, looking out over the ocean. “Overseers, you see. She was a witch, much like Corvo.”

That explains a lot. “Is that why you helped him? Five years ago?”

“Yes,” Samuel says. “He fell out of a crow and landed as a man, then nearly drowned trying to crawl up the bank. I had to help him, certainly no one else would.” He glances back at Daud. “What happened to his crows?” he asks. “I tried to bring it up to Corvo, but he… was less than receptive.”

Daud winces, sipping at the tea. “The Outsider is dead,” he says. “Or as good as. We don’t know. We woke up one day a month ago and our Marks were gone, and the crows had abandoned him.”

Samuel echoes his wince. “At least he has you and Miss Emily,” he says, and ushers Daud back inside towards the bar. Daud finds himself following out of a lack of anything better to do, or the ability to really protest. 

He’s lead to the bar, where Samuel gestures for him to sit. “You really don’t have to do all this,” he protests, as a plate of apricot and cheese tartlets are set in front of him. 

“Nonsense, you’re friends with Corvo, it’s really no trouble at all.” Samuel leans against the bar on the opposite side of the counter. “We both know you’d rather be up there with him, but since you’re here, and I didn’t see you at dinner, it’s absolutely no trouble to provide.” 

Daud pauses with his hand halfway to the plate. “Up there with him?” he questions hoarsely.

Samuel gives him a measuring look. “I know you aren’t actually so foolish as to think that I don’t have ears, young man,” he says. 

The last month has been rough, going to use powers he no longer has. But right now he’d give his left arm for the ability to transverse away. “This is Dunwall,” Daud says when Samuel just waits him out. “There’s no room for… that.”

“It’s true, there are some old fashioned minds here,” Samuel says. 

Grimacing, Daud nods. “And so, here I am.” 

Samuel nudges the plate of food closer to him. “Have you two talked about what this means for you?” he asks, and though the question is invasive, his tone is gentle. “Corvo is leaving tomorrow, as soon as Piero outfits him.”

“I know,” Daud grinds out. “But I can’t stop him - I wouldn’t stop him even if I had the power to do so. Corvo blames himself for Jessamine’s death, he always has - and with the crows gone, he’s lost her voice as well. What sort of man would I be if I denied him this?”

There’s a seconds worth of pause and Samuel sighs. “And fair enough. Take the plate, I’ll show you where you can bunk down for the night.” 

Not really hungry but realizing he’s going to be sooner rather than later, Daud takes the plate and follows Samuel up the stairs to the second floor. “Thank you,” Daud says quietly. “For the food.”

Samuel waves him off, not that Daud expected him to do anything differently. They slip into the old servants quarters, and Samuel gestures to one of the beds in the corner. “That one is meant to be mine but I haven’t slept inside in twenty years, not going to start now. I’ll leave you to it, Mr. Daud, eat the food.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Daud nibbles at the cheese, fingers clenched around the plate. Whatever happens with Corvo, whatever change comes from what happened, he’ll just have to deal with it as it happens. He can’t change the past.

Plate empty, Daud places it under the bed and lays back on the lumpy mattress. He can hear the dual snoring of Rulfio and Rinaldo, and lets the familiar sound soothe him into sleep.

Eventually the sound pulls away from him and Daud has exactly a second to realize he’s falling before he lands in a lake, the dark blue and black of the Void swirling around him. “What the fuck,” he shouts, surfacing from the icy cold water.

Except for where he breaks the surface, the water is undisturbed, flat and stretching out on either side of him. Trembling with nerves and cold, Daud swims towards what looks like a rocky outcropping, finding instead that it’s an old algae covered statue. The features are indistinguishable now, moss and slime covering the smashed in face. He hoists himself to the top of it though, perched like a bird, seeking out the nearest source of land.

The wind blasts him not gently and Daud shivers hard. “You know, I hated the Void before, but I really hate it now!” he calls out in the general direction of the sky. 

In answer, the water drains away, leaving him standing on top of a statue surrounded by other broken statues. He can hear frogs chirping from somewhere, and when he climbs down, his boots sink a few inches into the mud. 

This is a Void without the Outsider.

There's a long, low sound from somewhere in the distance, and steeling himself for the worst, Daud goes to investigate.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he finds the dying entity that is the Outsider. 

In the last twenty years of his life, Daud has relied on the magic powers given by being Marked, but he's never gotten on with the deity, they fought and sniped and more or less ignored each other unless absolutely necessary. 

He'd annoyed the Outsider, he knew it - as soon as he kept up his training and continued to take contracts. The Outsider grew bored, just the way Daud liked it, and he'd been abandoned. He's never seen the Outsider and Corvo interact, but the fact that he appeared in the middle of the common area at their warehouse in Karnaca just to tell Daud where to find Corvo instead of giving him a strange and cryptic message speaks loads of their relationship. 

Taking a deep breath, Daud crosses the long black stone platform, and looks over the edge. 

Nothing. 

There are other floating platforms, all empty of gods, whales, and water. Glancing around, and wishing for the thousandth time for the ability to transverse again, Daud leaps off the platform and lands heavily a few levels down. 

The impact is jarring and the world slides sideways just a bit, and he turns around to see what fresh hell he's fallen into, to find he stands in the mouth of a building. It's built of dark wood, and the same black stone that has always littered the Void, and Daud peers into the grim gloom of the fabricated dream room. 

Something moves. 

He reaches for his sword but finds himself unarmed, though he's inexplicably dressed in the red jacket he hasn't worn since he killed Jessamine. "Who goes there?" he demands, fingers curling into fists. 

A boy climbs out of the darkness, dark hair messy and matted to his forehead. His eyes are blue, so blue that it reminds Daud of the Void as it was. There's a dark shadow of a bruise over one of his cheeks, trailing down his pale skin and fattening his lower lip. The language that spills out of the boy isn't Tyvian, or Morlian, and it's definitely not Serkonan. Whatever it is, Daud has never heard it's like. 

The boy looks expectantly at Daud, voice lilting up as though in question. "I'm sorry," Daud says slowly. "But I don't... Understand you." 

The boy frowns, eyes very serious in his young face. He eases forward on his hands and knees and Daud notices right away that his clothing is in disrepair, with rips over all the joints and inexpertly repaired. He wears no shoes, and what Daud can see of his skin is covered in fine white lines. 

Daud is suddenly and viscerally reminded of Billie. He crouches down to be on the same level as the boy, and relaxes his fists and his expression. "Are you one of the marked?" he asks, and the boy cocks his head to the side. "Are you sleeping like I am?" Daud tries. 

Whatever the boy answers with is more of the nonsense language, and Daud sighs. He holds up a hand to stop the flow of words and the boy halts immediately. 

Instead of asking questions that the kid clearly doesn't understand, Daud presses a hand to his own chest. "Daud," he introduces. 

The boy smiles, and it's a breathtakingly adorable expression. "Daud," he repeats, and presses his hand against Daud's chest, over his heart. 

Before he can react to that, the floor crumbles under him and he falls, arms pinwheeling as he tries to right himself, reaching for the boy. He lands heavily, a few feet below the room and he immediately looks up, searching out the boy’s pale face and finds that the sky above him is a clear slate grey. 

The room - and consequently, the boy - is gone. 

Daud stands up, knees protesting, and he rubs his lower back, feeling a twinge of pulled muscle. This new area is familiar to him, it's the same place as where the Outsider greeted him the first time, a broken up half dream of his old cabin on the ship where he'd grown up. "Come on, you black eyed bastard!" he calls. "Enough games! Show yourself!" 

Nothing. 

"Damn it, Outsider," Daud snarls, picking up a loose rock and flinging it at the sky. "Don't do it for me, do it for him! Do it for Corvo Attano who fucking mourns you, you absolute bloody bastard!" 

There's a low chuckle, echoing through the earth, vibrating through the air. It goes on and on, shaking the very foundations of the Void. Daud nearly loses his balance, staggering over to one of the dark stone spires and hanging on. 

The Void trembles, and the floor in front of him breaks cleanly in half, floating away on invisible wind. Daud opens his mouth to yell again, but his voice dies in his throat. 

In front of his feet, instead of more dark grey or airy blue, is a black, inky darkness. It's a nothingness, where the Void has eaten away at itself. 

And in that darkness, _something_ moves.   

Daud wakes up. 

*

It’s well into the morning, and likely the afternoon when Daud finally opens his eyes. 

He's alone in the room, and Daud feels ancient, muscles pulling strangely as he stands. He must be getting old, really, he's never slept late twice in a row. 

Slowly making his way downstairs, he rounds the corner to find that both Rinaldo and Rulfio are blocking the door, as they slowly back up. "What," Daud asks, "are you two doing?" 

"It's dangerous in there," Rinaldo says. "We're hiding." 

Rulfio shoots his brother a nasty look. " _He's_ hiding," he corrects. "I'm giving Corvo and Princess a little space." 

Daud looks over their heads, putting his hands on the twins shoulders, quelling their retreat. Corvo is holding onto Emily for dear life, and she's openly sobbing in a way that makes Daud want to kill something. "What have I missed?" he asked Rulfio quietly. 

"Em is just now realizing that when Corvo leaves in an hour, he's not coming back until Delilah is dealt with," Rulfio answers somberly. "She always knew, but it's just hitting her now." He leans back a little, giving Daud a better view into the room. "Joplin is mostly done with Corvo's things - I don't think he slept all night - which means that you're down to the wire on saying your goodbyes."

Remembered panic filters through Daud's chest, and he clamps down on it harshly, burying it under the worry for Corvo's safety and his anguish over Emily. 

Rulfio ducks his hand, catching his brother by the waist and tugging him away. "We'll be outside, Boss," he says. "Thomas is with Miss Curnow and Pip, they're having lessons right now. And Miss Mayhew gave us patrol times." Daud nods absently, eyes still on Corvo. "Hey Boss?" Rulfio says and there's a hardness in his voice that makes Daud look at him. "Don't fuck it up." 

Rinaldo squeaks, and shoves his brother, and they vanish up the stairs before Daud can mete out any kind of retribution. He turns his attention back to the two in the middle of the pub. 

Corvo is holding onto Emily like she'll disappear on him, and he's rocking her in place, fingers tight in her jacket between her shoulders. "Emily," he whispers, over and over, "Emily, Emily. Baby, please." 

"Daddy," she says, and it edges on a whine but it's so broken that Corvo flinches from it. "Daddy, please don't go." 

His face crumples, and Corvo leans his forehead on the top of her head. "I have to, sweetheart," he says quietly. "I'm their only hope." 

"Why?" she snaps harshly. "Because you're a witch? Just don't be a witch then!" 

He huffs a quiet laugh, holding her tighter. "I don't really have that option anymore, Emily. This is my path, like it or not." 

"I hate it!" she cries, fisting her hands in Corvo's vest. "I hate it, I hate it, I hate it! I just found you again, daddy. What if something happens?" 

Corvo pulls back from her, framing her face in his hands. "Emily, I can't promise that nothing will happen to me. Alexi assures me that there's a message system in place and I'll write every week I'm gone. And you'll have Daud, and Thomas and all the others." 

She knuckles away the tears, face set in a scowl. "Daddy," she chides. "I'm suppose to protect you!" 

To his credit, Corvo doesn't laugh, though his face contorts oddly. "You're what?" he asks, incredulous. 

She shrugs, looking uncomfortable. "Someone has to look after you," she says. 

He folds her into another hug. "I have plenty of protection," he promises gently. "I have you, and I have Daud, and I still have my magic. I will be alright, and I promise to try and stay out of trouble." 

She narrows her eyes and then glances at the doorway. "Dad," she says. 

Sighing, Daud steps into the room. "Do you really want to call me that, Princess?" he asks, wryly. "Considering all we've been through." 

Emily shrugs. "Who else would I call dad? Thomas? Rulf? No, you've taken care of me for the last five years, six years now. Corvo is always going to be my father, and you being my dad doesn't change that. Stop complaining. Dad." 

Corvo snorts a soft laugh, and he holds out an arm for Daud to join them, still clinging to Emily. 

Hesitantly, Daud steps into the circle of their arms, letting Emily cling to him. They stand there, in the middle of the pub, Daud with his hand on the top of Emily's head, his arm wrapped around Corvo's thin frame. "Please don't die, daddy," Emily whispers, leaning her forehead against their shoulders. 

"Emily," Corvo murmurs. 

"I know," she whispers back. "I'm sorry." 

Daud submits to her kiss on the cheek, and she turns and heads for the door. "We'll be right there," Daud says. 

She nods once and disappears out into the yard, closing the door behind her. As soon as the strip of orange sunlight is gone, Corvo turns to face Daud, and kisses him gently. It feels like a good bye. "I have things to talk to you about," Corvo says, slowly. "But I have to go, I don't... Have the time." He kisses Daud again. "I'm sorry for that." 

Daud's chest aches in a familiar way, the ache of a mortal wound without open flesh. "I know," he says. "It's... We'll be alright." He kisses Corvo back, keeping his hands to his sides. "Please be careful." 

Corvo rests their foreheads together. "I'll come back to you. I promise." 

Daud is struck mute as Corvo gets on Samuel's boat, laden with supplies, and elixir. He can't speak, even as Thomas asks him questions. He can only watch as Corvo disappears from sight, around the bend of the Wrenhaven. 

He can't reply to any of that, as the mortal wound in his chest cavity widens without warning and swallows his heart. 

*


	5. 5. CORVO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The rune he carves is one for speed, it’s loops and whorls in tiny lines around the very end of the charm. It bleeds into another rune, this one for invisibility, digging deeper into the bone and glowing a bright ambient red._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today, on this auspicious Monday, is my 30th birthday. My present to all of you (because I am a hobbit) is this newest chapter. It's a bit shorter than the others, but it packs a lot in and I felt like adding more would make it too much. 
> 
> So this is for all of you, every person who left kudos, leaves comments, reached out on Tumblr, reached out on Discord, every single one of you means so much to me. 
> 
> I can be found on [tumblr ](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/) for all your needs, I follow back and I love conversation.

Corvo is alone.

Before Daud, Corvo had become used being alone. He’d gained the Howler’s after a year on his own. He’d always had the crows and - well, he’d always had the crows. After Samuel drops him off on the edge of the Wrenhaven, the smell of muck thick in the air, frogs chirping breaking up the silence, Corvo takes a breath, and then another.

The hovel that Alexi has scouted out for him isn’t as bad as he feared. It’s in the basement of an abandoned building, the windows boarded up and dark. The door closes, at least, and latches well, so Corvo sets about pulling down the boards, letting in the weak sunlight.

Using the boards to start a fire in the dusty stove warms up some of the chill, and Corvo dearly regrets leaving ever-warm Serkonos until the feeling in his fingers returns. There’s a ladder in the corner, leading up to a shuttered first floor room. 

He removes the ladder, breaking that up into kindling - he can Blink up to the first floor in any case.

Setting up the small alchemy lab he’d managed to take with him from Karnaca, Corvo whistled quietly to fill the silence. The completed bone charms against disease and the Plague are next to be unpacked, and he hangs one in the window. 

It chimes softly, but it’s not the same. 

Corvo leans over the table, fingers digging into the cracked and scarred surface. The music of his magic is gone, and he feels more alone than ever. “Who the Void are you?” a voice demands from the door, and Corvo spins towards it, startled.

A woman stands there, her arms loose and battle ready, close to the sword at her side. She pale, with dark streaks over her skin, a rose pinned to - or perhaps blooming from - her lapel. Corvo takes a second to thank his foresight in wearing the mask, and he crosses his arms over his chest. “They call me Old Crow,” he says, rolling out a shrug. “Or they did, back in Karnaca before the Overseers started slaughtering witches.”

Thank the Void for Martin’s twice-damned zealotry, at least. It’s a good cover.

Her eyes narrow, and she looks him over. “You’re a witch?” she asks. “Ain’t never met a male witch before.”

He tilts his head to the side. “Ain’t never met a woman witch myself,” he drawls back, affecting her tone. 

Her lip turns up in an obviously reluctant smirk, and her frame relaxes. “Well,” she says, “Crow. You wearin’ that mask for a reason?”

Corvo smiles, tips his head down so his Void-silver eyes catch hers even behind the wooden crow face. “Easier to hide behind,” he answers honestly. 

“Shit,” she swears. “You really are a witch.”

“Mm,” he hums, noncommittally. “I am. Not here to make trouble or step on toes. You’ll find I’m not overfond of Overseers, and they… did not endear themselves to me in Karnaca.” He lets his accent mellow out, gives himself the rolling vowels of his home country.  He turns his head to the side to fix her with his bright gaze. “Now, shall we have your introduction, my dear? You know who I am.”

She presses her lips together. “I’m Sabina,” she answers. “One of Delilah’s. I’ll have to tell her about you.”

Good, Corvo thinks to himself, fiercely. The sooner the better. He just shrugs again, placing both hands on the table and leaning forward. “If she requires my credentials, she can ask Kirin Jindosh of my good intentions.”

Sabina nods slowly. “I was watching the river where you came in,” she said. “Who dropped you off?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” he says. “Bribed someone at the docks. Never asked their name.” He watches her carefully. “Look, Sabina,” he says, giving her name the Serkonan lilt, “I was a poisoner, a hierophant, and a charmer, back in Karnaca. Planned to do the same here- might not be able to cure the Plague, but here.” He tosses her one of his bone charms, the ones treated with Sokolov’s elixir and carved specifically to keep the Plague at bay. “For the Empress, as a gesture of my good faith.”

She catches it, gasping a little when it hits the skin of her hand. “You can make bone charms?”

“They’re something of my specialty,” Corvo answers honestly. “If she likes my work, I’m always accepting more Whale bones.” 

Sabina looks down at the charm and then back up at him. There’s something in her face that he can’t quite read but she nods. “I’ll tell her.”

Then, she’s gone, the sound of displaced air heralding her exit.

Corvo slumps over the table. This is going to be harder than he thought.

He grabs the rest of his bone charms, laying them out. They chime gently when he touches them, but fall silent as he wraps them in Void purple cloth, locking them in a drawer. 

There aren’t any Overseers to come calling, but habits are hard to break.

Half heartedly, Corvo retrieves his tools, running his fingers over a slice of bone. It’s already been treated with alcohol and the elixir, but he hasn’t tried to carve a new charm since the one he made for Armando. 

If he’d been at home, he’d have gone to find someone by now - Mindy, or Daud, or Emily. 

Corvo is alone.

He sinks into the Void, ducking it’s biting fangs and reaching deep into the abyss for his power. It feels like stinging darts, or a bloodfly’s bite on his hands, and Corvo ignores it. His magic is his, and it has been for six years. He’s not going to let it tear him down now.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see his tattoos glow a bright iridescent red, and he misses the Outsider with an intensity that nearly burns. 

Closing his eyes, Corvo refocuses. He doesn’t know what sort of charm he wants to make - he just wants to kill time until he’s tired enough to sleep. He lets his magic lead him, following at it’s snapping heels, curving the tool over the end of the bone.

This is a small piece, just enough to give an edge, not like the charm he made Daud, or Mindy or Paolo. The magic sparks around his fingers, a bright and vibrant red, and he pushes a little more of himself into the Void. 

The rune he carves is one for speed, it’s loops and whorls in tiny lines around the very end of the charm. It bleeds into another rune, this one for invisibility, digging deeper into the bone and glowing a bright ambient red. 

Magic spills over the charm, pulled from Corvo and the Void, infusing the bone with magic and luck. As he smoothes metal over the top, fingers overwarm, the metal burns; turning it a dark, burnished steel. Looping wire over and under, he designs another rune, using the steel wire to hold the form. It runs out of him, down his right arm and into the air around the charm. 

The rune blurs to his tired eyes, as though the charm laying in his head shivers or trembles.

An enemy will miss with their pistol or crossbow, the charm whispers to him. Corvo closes the magic down, folding it back into himself. 

He pauses. The magic is wrapped tightly around the end of the bone charm, and it pulses a dull angry red, throbbing with the heartbeat of the Void. Corvo pulls harder, and the magic…  _sours._

Dropping the charm, he stares down at it, unseeing. 

As though satisfied, the Void falls away from him, leaving him gasping, drenched in sweat. 

The charm chimes mockingly at him, glowing red and corrupt by his smoking tools.

Slowly it picks it up, and flinches. In all his years of carving bone charms, in all his years of experimenting and improving, he has never let magic corrupt his work.

It’s Dunwall - or whatever killed the… or whatever happened in the Void - it must be. 

No wonder all the bone charms from Dunwall were broken, he thinks. He wishes Daud were there, to share in his displeasure. But, Corvo is alone.

He picks up the charm, and slips it on under his vest.

*

Someone knocks on his door and Corvo Blinks down to the workshop. Sabina stands there, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Crow,” she greets, and he tips his head in acknowledgement. “Come with me,” she instructs. 

He tilts his head back, eyeing her carefully. “I mean absolutely no offense, Miss Sabina,” he says. “But I know enough about this city to know that I oughtn’t follow you anywhere without knowing where we’re going first.”

Her skin darkens alarmingly for a moment, before she laughs a little. “And fair enough,” she says. “It ain’t far, Crow. Just to the river.”

Corvo looks her over, eyes hidden by his mask. He outweighs her by several stone at least, and he’s seen more years of battle than she’s seen in her lifetime. He Blinks to her side, watching her reaction as she startles backwards. He lets his lips quirk up in a smile. “After you, Miss.”

Sabina scowls at him, tugging her cap lower over her face. “This way, Crow.”

Surprisingly she doesn’t Blink, she leads him through the winding alley to the edge of the Wrenhaven where another witch stands. As they come up on her, Corvo is able to take in her measure. The witch on the waterfront is clearly Sabina’s genetic twin, the same build and coloring, but her face gives her away.

She is frightened. Sabina Blinks away from him, appearing beside her. “I’m right here,” Sabina says loudly, her hands making expansive sweeping movements. 

Her sister witch grabs her shoulders. “Sabina,” she says, and her voice is slurred and thick. 

“I brought the Crow. Maybe he can help you,” Sabina says, still too loud. She looks over her shoulder at Corvo, eyes accusing. “She’s deaf,” Sabina explains. 

“Only mostly,” her sister protests. 

Suddenly Sabina’s skittishness makes sense. Leaving her mostly deaf sister out in the open must have worried her.  Corvo presses his hand to his heart, bowing. “They call me Crow,” he offers, speaking a half tone louder than usual. 

The girl smiles, and she looks nothing like the other witches Corvo’s seen. Her skin is dusky with dark power, and her hair is laced through with roses but she doesn’t have the same way of standing. “Aurelia,” she introduces herself. “Sabina’s sister.”

She makes a loose fist as she says her name, tapping her ear twice with it, and makes a tighter fist as she says Sabina’s name, tapping her shoulder. 

Corvo watches them carefully, not entirely certain why Sabina brought him here. “It's a pleasure,” he says to Aurelia, “but why am I here?”

Sabina and her sister share a complicated look. “You make bone charms,” Sabina says. “Can you make some to help her ears? She almost died last week, because she didn't hear the Weepers coming.”

Thinking about the corruption he's starting to make gives him a headache. He nods slowly. “I can try,” he says. “Come with me to my workshop,” he adds. “We’ll find something.”

He leads the two girls - he can’t think of them as witches anymore, not really - back to his small hovel. He doesn’t have any pre-made charms that help with hearing, but he has a few ideas. 

Pulling out his plain bones, Corvo hands the box to Aurelia. “I need you two pick two small bones out,” he says. “This sized, if you can find them.” He makes a small circle with his hands to show her. “Then bring them to me.”

She nods in understanding and Corvo Blinks over to the stove, pulling out the copper pot, and filling it with the herbs needed. “What are you doing?” Sabina asks, her voice pitched low enough that her sister apparently doesn’t hear. 

“Whale bones need treatment,” he answers. “This will attune the magic to her, rather than a general bone charm you could find out in the city. These will be hers, and only hers.” 

Aurelia comes over holding two thumb sized whale bones. Her gaze is curious and he gestures to the pot. “Now what?” she asks.

“Now, choose a spirit,” he instructs, and opens one of the cabinets. “Doesn’t matter what sort, just that it’s your choice.”

She looks over his selection critically, before pulling out a flask of Orbon’s Rum. Corvo raises an eyebrow under his mask, a bit surprised at her choice. She dumps it into the pot without prompting, and Corvo turns up the heat, covering it so it will boil faster. 

“Thank you,” she says, touching her fingertips to her chest and sweeping her hand upward along the line of her throat and out under her chin. “You did not have do this.”

Corvo smiles, inclining his head. “I’ll see what I can do,” he says loudly. “They won’t be done for several days, you can come by at the end of the week. Or whenever it’s safe.”

Sabina tugs on her sister’s shoulder. “He’s right, we should go,” she says. “Thank you again, Crow.”

He watches them go, and rescues the pot before the heat can set the rum on fire, fishing out the two small bones. 

It’s going to take all of his concentration to keep the corruption from hurting her - and himself. He closes the door, dropping a wooden plank down and barring it from the inside. 

This is what he came out here to do, he reminds himself. He _has_ to do this; for Emily, for Daud. For the Outsider. 

Corvo sits at his table, looking down at the small bone. He touches the end of it, opening up his magic. 

Steeling himself, Corvo falls headlong into the Void. 

*


	6. 6. DAUD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The patrol goes well, until it doesn't._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is, of course, for my beloved Dani, who not only spent the last week at my house but then ended up getting a delayed plane flight for hours and hours in my tiny, terrible airport. For Aeniala, and Starbunny, Estora, Lex and Sera - your support and help in all things is unparalleled, and I couldn't do any of this without you. 
> 
> This chapter is not my favorite. I struggled with their separation even more as Daud, though I did get to include two of my favorite characters: Gerome, of course, is my darling and Slackjaw who I find utterly fascinating. 
> 
> I can be found [at Tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/), for all your needs. <3

Daud is going to  _ kill  _ him.

“Burton!” he bellows across the Yard, startling several of the children and the Lord Pendleton, into scattering around them. He finds the man in question standing by Samuel’s hut, Emily next to him - as expected - and when she sees Daud, she turns white and ducks around Burton’s superior height to hide. “Oh no,” he spits. “You get back over here, Princess!”

Burton’s expression morphs from irritation to rage in the span of a second. “Hey!” he barks. “You leave her the fuck alone,” he snarls, stepping into Daud’s space.

That throws him, and he sneers, recognizing the expression on Burton’s face. “For fucks sake, I’m not going to hurt her, she’s my kid. Now get out of the way.” 

He’s never claimed Emily like that before, but he supposes with Corvo currently gone, it’s more or less true. And even if she wasn’t, Emily is still one of his. She steps out from behind Burton, still pale and sheepish looking. “Dad,” she says, rubbing the back of her head. “I see you’ve spoken to Alexi.”

“Uh huh,” Daud grunts. “What the fuck were you thinking? Did you assume I wouldn’t notice you’d gone with them? Hm?”

Emily crosses her arms over her chest, glaring at him. “You let me go with you when Corvo was kidnapped,” she says, just as vicious as he is. “Why is this any different?”

“Because you did it behind my back,” Daud says, gesturing towards where Burton is watching them carefully. “Because in Karnaca I was there to keep an eye on you!”

“So you don’t trust me,” Emily shoots back immediately, and two spots of color appear high on her cheeks as she says it. “You don’t think I can take care of myself out there?”

Daud is absolutely dumbfounded. He blinks at her, trying to process the idiocy of her statement and takes a deep breath. “Emily,” he says, lowering his voice and staying serious. “I know you’re able, of course you’re able. I’ve seen you in action, and I trained you myself. I’m not angry because you want to go.”

She frowns at him, before looking away. “So why?” she asks, and her voice cracks tellingly.

“Because you went around me,” Daud says, dragging his patience back under control, reading her expression correctly as being near to tears. “I want to go out there too, Em,” he says, not quite gently. “I hate being stuck here while he’s out there. I’m not angry because you want to help him. I’m angry because you tried to hide it from me.”

“I didn’t think you’d let me go,” Emily says in a small, upset voice. 

Daud sighs. “I  _ don’t  _ want you to go,” he says. “If anything happened to you, I don’t know what Corvo would do. What  _ I  _ would do.”

Emily scowls again, but the effect is somewhat lost as she loses the battle with tears and two drop down her flushed cheeks. “I can’t just sit here,” she mutters. “I’ll go crazy.”

He steps closer to her, ignoring the way Burton tenses like he wants to intervene. “Emily,” he says but she stubbornly continues looking out over the water. “Emily,” he says again, making a concentrated effort to gentle his voice. “Will you look at me?”

Finally, after several eternities, Emily drags her gaze away from the shore and up to meet Daud’s eyes. Her wide brown eyes are glassy, and red rimmed, and she looks so exhausted that he wants to bundle her back up and drag her to Karnaca where she’ll be safe.

“What?” she mutters, clearly suspecting a trap. 

This is not how he wanted to have this conversation. But it looks like he doesn’t have much of a choice. “I know that I’m not your father,” he says, “And that I’m barely even your foster father.” She looks like she wants to protest that, but he holds up a hand. “But you’re as close to a daughter as I’m ever going to get, Emily. And if anything happened to you, I don’t know what I would do.” He looks out over the shore, away from her eyes - so much like her mother’s - before coming to a decision. “I’m not going to stop you from going on Patrol with Burton. But I am coming with you.”

She gasps, and a second later he has his arms full of exuberant sixteen year old. He holds her tightly for a second, before setting her back on her feet. “Thank you, Dad,” she says, scrubbing at her face.

“Your father is going to kill me,” he says meditatively.

Emily grins at him. “But you already gave me permission,” she points out. “He has to agree.”

“That just means he’s  _ definitely  _ going to kill me. Go get your kit, brat,” he adds, when she looks smug. “And tell Thomas where we’re going.”

She kisses his cheek. “Be right back, Mr. Burton,” she says, and runs off, hollering for Thomas. 

Once she’s out of sight - and therefore out of hearing range - Daud rounds on Burton. “I don’t know what your Void damned problem is,” Daud hisses, “But I wouldn’t hurt that girl for all the money in the world.” He pushes away from Burton, since the only logical conclusion is to punch him in the teeth but that would upset Emily, and stalks off to the attic room where he left his things.

Thomas is waiting for him at the foot of the stairs, one eyebrow raised in question. “Everything alright, Boss?” he asks mild and unassuming.

“You know better than to ask stupid questions,” Daud grunts, brushing past him and heading up the stairs. 

He knows from experience that Thomas has fallen into step behind him. “Emily says you’re letting her go on patrol,” Thomas says neutrally. 

Daud shoots him a look over his shoulder. “Let’s hear it,” he says dryly. 

Thomas waits until they’re in the attic, before turning to face Daud. “You certain that’s a good idea, boss?” 

“You want to try and stop her, be my guest,” Daud says, pointing. “I’m going with her. Burton’s going with her. And so are you, get your kit.”

“I am?” Thomas asks, looking surprised. “You want to leave Pip here with the twins?”

Waving that off, Daud shrugs. “He’s safest here, and the twins are troublemakers who wouldn’t  do much more than cause a bit of chaos.” 

Thomas snorts. “They’re afraid of Mayhew.”

Chuckling quietly under his breath, Daud grabs his things, ushering Thomas out of the room. “Just get your kit,” he says fondly. “You can help me keep an eye on the princess.” 

“Masks?” Thomas wonders, and Daud has to think about it for a second before he finally shakes his head. 

“No,” he answers. “We were well known, six years ago. We don’t need that sort of press.”

Once they reach the yard again, they find Emily waiting with Burton, and a few others. Burton nods to them and says, gruffly, “Daud, Thomas, this is Geoff, the former Captain of the Guard, Slackjaw, whom you’ve met, and Thorpe.” 

Daud nods to them each, taking his time setting up his wristbow. He loads up extra sleep darts, making a mental note to get Rulfio the ingredients to make more. “Ready?” Geoff says, fingers twitchy on his pistol. “Let’s go.”

*

The patrol goes quietly, until it doesn’t.

Seven Weepers drop out of an abandoned building above them, and Emily’s shrill scream is the only warning they get.

Daud clenches his left fist in preparation to tranverse away, staggered when - once again - nothing happens. Habits of a lifetime are hard to break. He ducks around Thorpe, knocking a Weeper away from Burton and Emily who are standing back to back. “Emily!” he calls, and she looks over, wild with fear and adrenaline. 

In one motion, he unhooks his wristbow, tossing it to her underhanded. She catches it, and shoots a Weeper straight into the muscle of his chest, before putting it on her wrist. Thorpe and Geoff kill both the Weepers converging on them, and Daud punches the one trying to get to Burton in the face, spinning him around and sinking into a choke hold. 

The small fwip, fwip fwip of Emily’s precise shots takes down the other three Weepers, leaving them battered and bit bruised with monsters scattered around them in broken piles. “Well,” Burton drawls. “That was a fucking adventure.”

“This is right by where Sam left Corvo,” Geoff comments, and Slackjaw stops picking through the pockets of the Weepers to peer up at them. “We could check in on him?” Geoff asks.

Slackjaw snorts. “You’ll get him caught right quick if you all go wandering into his shop now. Send one of you. Not the girl.”

Emily scowls at him, fingers tightening around the firing mechanism of the wristbow. “He’s my father,” she says hotly. 

“You’re supposed to be dead, Empress,” Slackjaw says, his tone hard. “Send me or Curnow.”

Daud wants to protest that too but it’s Burton who speaks up. “Send the Knife,” he says. “He’s a scarred up old man looking for plague protection.” He gestures to his own scarred up face. “And I’ve killed enough of the witches that they know my ugly mug.”

He’s really not going to complain. “I’ll go,” he agrees quickly. 

Emily rolls her eyes and goes to hand him back his wristbow before he takes her hands to stop her. “Daud?” she asks, confused.

“Keep it,” he says, and kisses her forehead. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Daud slips into the shadows of the buildings, working his way around to the waterfront where Corvo had set up shop. His door is open, and there’s a bone charm hanging in the window. He looks around, up, over the edge of the water, down both sides of the street before moving into the doorway.

“Sabina,” Corvo sighs. “I said I would be done when I was done, please stop interrupting me.”

Daud lifts an eyebrow incredulously. “Who’s Sabina?” he asks, and has the singular pleasure of watching the man who knew everything get surprised. 

Corvo spins slowly on his stool, turning to look at Daud, his expression pale and shocked. “Daud?” he asks.

He looks wrecked, just from seeing Daud in the door, and he strides forward, eating up the distance between them in three large steps. “Corvo,” Daud murmurs, and pulls him into a kiss. 

At first, Corvo is slack beneath him but Daud just waits him out. Once Corvo is convinced of his continued presence, he stands, forcing their angle to contort just a bit, and drags Daud closer into a tight embrace. “You’re here,” he says hoarsely, his mouth pressed to Daud’s cheek.

“I’m right here, bodyguard,” he murmurs. 

They hold each other for another long moment before Corvo pulls back. “Is everything alright? Every _ one _ all right? Why are you here?”

“We’ve been patrolling,” Daud answers. “Everyone is fine. Emily misses you and sends you love. The patrol sent me to check on you.”

Corvo nods, his eyes still fixed on Daud’s. “I’ve missed you,” he admits.

Daud presses his forehead to Corvo’s. “The attic room is too large without you in it,” he admits, as close to the truth as he can get.

That gets him a small, soft smile, and Daud is thrown back to before leaving for Dunwall, before it all went to shit, and seeing that smile in the sunlight of a Karnaca morning. Something must show on his face, because Corvo pulls him in close, holding him just a little too tightly. “I’m having a very real difficulty telling you that should go,” Corvo murmurs, his lips pressed to Daud’s temple.

Almost without his permission, Daud finds his fingers tightening on Corvo’s hips. “I’m having the same difficulty in making the choice to go myself,” he says back.

“I know,” Corvo says. “Void,” he mutters with feeling, taking a step back from Daud. It feels like he’s been torn away and Daud’s chest is abruptly cold. 

Daud clears his throat, dragging his mind back to business with considerable effort. “But you’re alright?” he asks. “Emily will flay me alive if I don’t come back with a full report.”

“I’m alright,” Corvo promises. “Cold, often. I grew too used to the warmth of Karnaca. I’ve met a few of the witches already and they are… suspicious but inoffensive so far. I’m… managing.” He presses his lips together. “But I miss you, and Emily. Even the Void forsaken twins.” 

He doesn’t mention the Outsider but then again, neither does Daud. 

Instead, Daud nods, and he takes a step back. If he doesn’t, he’ll stay for longer and leave everyone in danger. Slackjaw’s insistence that he was the one to do this is both a blessing and a curse. “I’ll let her know,” he says. “I -- Take care of yourself. We’ll… try to leave more letters.”

After Corvo nods, turning his back to give Daud the necessary composure to leave, Daud flees.

He has to pause in the alley between Corvo’s workshop and where he left the others, heart pounding a rough staccato. 

Daud takes a few necessary breaths, willing himself to move naturally, wishing he’d agreed to take the whalers masks. He’d been about to say - no. It’s too soon to say I love you. 

* 

“Daud,” Havelock says, standing in the doorway of the attic room. Daud, who had been staring up at the ceiling, lamenting his lack of sleep, looks over in annoyance. “I apologize for the disturbance,” Havelock says, but it doesn’t sound sincere.

He sits up, standing before Havelock can come closer. There’s something about the man that makes Daud uneasy to be in a vulnerable position near him. “What can I do for you?” he asks, trying to keep his voice even. 

“It’s become more than clear that our weapons, tactics and available resources are sadly lacking,” Havelock says without inflection. “With Corvo in the field, we have an in, but that won’t be enough. I’m certain you wouldn’t wish for him to be left out there with no backup.”

Daud narrows his eyes. “And what are you suggesting, Admiral?” he growled. 

“We have a number of able bodied persons, though many of them are not combat trained. I know your face, Knife of Dunwall - join me, and help me teach them how to survive.” Havelock watches him carefully, his face giving nothing away. “Your men, of course, are welcome to join as well.”

Breathing slowly through his nose, Daud nods. “Fine,” he bites out. “We’ll join your training sessions.”

Havelock nods, bowing once, though his eyes never leave Daud's. “I look forward to seeing you in the morning,” he says pleasantly.

Daud watches the door frame long after Havelock has left it. 

Something just isn’t quite right.

*


	7. 7. CORVO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Music and magic fills his head, deafening him from the outside world, and small sparks burn his fingers as he carves._
> 
> _He can almost, almost pretend that the Outsider isn’t dead._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, this chapter is for my beloved Dani, Estora, Aeniala, Starbunny, taywen, Lex, and Sera (especially so after your bad news, doll.)
> 
> I've been looking forward to this chapter since I started posting Gathering. It was really fun to write, especially because of what all happens. I really enjoy my version of the Void. I hope you all do too. 
> 
> I can be found on [tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/), for all your needs - I follow back and enjoy conversation! <3
> 
> Enjoy!

The Void is… strange, when Corvo falls headlong into his connection to it. He’d grown used to fighting with it, forcing it open for his use, but this time it welcomed him like an old friend. He sinks into the feeling, reaching out for his elusive ability and sets his carving tools to bone. 

His magic leaps to his will, coiling around the small chunk of bone, turning the matte bleached color a bright vibrant blue. The runes flow out of him like he’s back in Karnaca, and he can barely keep up with the looping, burning magic.

Music and magic fills his head, deafening him from the outside world, and small sparks burn his fingers as he carves. 

He can almost, almost pretend that the Outsider isn’t dead.

The small bone fills up quickly, glowing with crossed and intersected lines, and Corvo puts the carving tools down. The Void clings to him, as he closes the connection he has to it, when a sharp pain around his ankle jolts him into awareness.

Corvo has exactly one second to realize that no one is in the room with him when he’s yanked off his stool, bones, tools and whale oil lamps spilling around him.  _ Something  _ drags him away, gripping his ankle tightly. He reaches out for anything, the table, the door frame, until the world distorts around him and Corvo finds himself hanging, upside down, in the black, grey, dying, Void.

He hangs there, weightless for what feels like an eternity, before whatever has him by the ankle pulls him slowly upward, depositing him not gently on black stone. Unlike the Void of his memories, this stone is damp, covered in creeping rust colored moss that soaks his trousers and makes a sick squelching noise when he scrambles to his feet.

Corvo has stood inside the Void in physical form exactly once - when he was searching for Emily’s soul in a sea of death and destruction. It had left him ill and shaking for weeks afterward, but this - this is different.

He turns slowly, and finds himself face to face with a woman. He startles backwards a step, falling into an instinctively defensive position. The woman smiles to see it, and just behind her a large, living vine coils and uncoils, snapping angrily. “I wondered who you were,” she purrs, and where she steps closer, bloody red roses burst forth from stone at her feet.

Steeling his muscles not to flinch as she draws closer, Corvo watches her warily. Her eyes are a dark brown, not black like an ink spill, and her pulse beats visibly at her throat. This woman is no Outsider. She’s not a specter or a phantom or a god.  This woman is alive.

“Tell me,” she says, stepping up to him, too close, and she lays her hands in his chest, gloved fingers spread wide across muscle and cloth. “What do they call you?” 

Corvo swallows back sour tasting saliva and says, “They call me Old Crow.” 

Her laugh is low, targeted to be seductive, and Corvo suppresses a flinch as the roses by her feet wind their way around his legs and ankles. “Old Crow, hm?” she repeats, her smile widening. “Your mother didn’t call you that, did she, witch?”

Inclining his head in deference to her point, Corvo answers her, “No, she didn’t. But my name is lost to me, and Crow is all I have left.” 

“How fascinating,” she says and he internalizes his wince. “And you’re not afraid of me - or of the Void. You use it well enough, even though you’re  _ stealing  _ it from me.” She catches his left hand, turning it over to bare the back of it. “Unmarked.”

Corvo lifts his right hand up, turning it towards the murky light. “If you’re looking for marks, you’ve got the wrong arm,” he says lightly. 

She laughs, the sound like rolling bells. “You don’t know who I am, do you? You live here in my Dunwall and you look upon my face and you don’t know who I am. You intrigue me.” 

“What do you expect me to say?” Corvo wonders. “I am new to Dunwall, having fled the Overseers of Serkonos. I once lived in Karnaca, but it became… inhospitable… to those like me.”

A flash of sorrow ripples through her face, the first real emotion he’s seen from her. “Yes, I… heard.” She tilts her head up to look at him through narrowed eyes. “I am the Empress of the Isles, Old Crow,” she introduces. 

Corvo forces his knees to unbend, dropping down in front of her, into the sharp and thorny roses at their feet, catching up her right hand and dropping a courtly kiss upon it. “Empress,” he murmurs over her knuckles. “Forgive me for not recognizing you.”

She rakes her fingers through his hair, an almost affectionate gesture, and she urges him back to his feet. “You are forgiven,” she says. “Tell me, Crow, what were you carving?”

“A young woman sought me out,” he answers. “She saw my bone charm in the window.” He shrugs, calculated. “She wished for a charm to help her sister, who is mostly deaf.”

Delilah blinks, surprise filtering through her blank mask. “Aurelia?” she asks. “Aurelia sought you out?”

Even though he’d already known the two girls were Delilah’s, he makes himself startle, stiffen under her hands. “I didn’t realize they were witches who were loyal to you,” he says in a rush. “Forgive me, Empress for overstepping.”

Delilah hushes him, feathering her fingers over his lips and Corvo has never wanted to flee someone has badly as he does right then. “Calm,” she says, “I remain unoffended. My magic was unable to return Aurelia’s hearing to her - if you are able to use it, then do so.” She eyes him, jumping from the breadth of his shoulders to his unmarked left hand and back to his eyes. “If you improve her hearing, I will come to you again,” she says, offhand.

“I am honored you’d pay a simple witch any sort of attention,” Corvo says instantly. “But… why?”

She smiles, the expression too sharp and wily to be pleasant. “I’ve never met a male witch before,” she says. “Consider it curiosity.”

Disgust curls low in his stomach, and he forces himself to nod. “I would welcome any visit from the Empress,” he repeats. 

“Perhaps,” Delilah says, stepping away from him and taking her invasive roses with her, “If you’re successful with your charm, I’ll give you my Mark.”

Corvo clenches his teeth on his first response to that, swallowing heavily. “As my Empress commands,” he says. 

Delilah’s smile widens, almost genuine except for the bloodthirsty bite of her teeth. “Do not disappoint me, Old Crow of Karnaca,” she warns. She steps backwards and disappears in flurry of leaves and petals, leaving him standing alone on the floating rock, roses dying at his feet. 

He turns around, alarmed, and finds a small distorted area behind him. He steps through it, and finds himself sitting back at his stool, two small completed bone charms sitting on his desk in front of him. With shaking hands, he fashions them into earrings, and slams his connection to the Void closed. 

Corvo hangs out his whale oil lantern, fingers still trembling, the agreed upon sign that Sabina had asked for. Aurelia’s charms are complete, he has no more need of the Void. 

For five seconds exactly, Corvo mourns the loss of his ease and comfort in creating bone charms. It seems Delilah has ruined that for him too.

*

Corvo doesn’t see Sabina or her sister for days, despite their insistence that they’d return within a day or two for the charms, and Corvo is starting to run out of food. He’d left a message at the dead drop warning Samuel away from Wrenhaven just in case the witches were to arrive at the wrong time. 

Left without much choice, Corvo leaves a sloppy note for Sabina on the workshop table, and ventures out into Dunwall. 

He’d spent years in the city, but the Dunwall he explores now bears only a passing resemblance to the Dunwall of his memories. He Blinks up to the filthy ledge of a building, staying away from the streets, just in case, and uses the rooftops more often than not. 

When he finds open windows, he loots them, listening hard for Weepers or other dangers. Not for the first time, he laments the loss of his dark vision, feeling crippled by its absence. 

He carries with him Thomas’ sword, and one of the whalers old wrist bows, but he’s only got so many sleep darts, and fewer still of the other darts he’d brought with him from Karnaca. He pauses on the rickety ledge of an old warehouse, eyeing the distance between his position and the roof across the street when a scream pierces the air.

Corvo goes on high alert, trying to pinpoint the location of the scream. It comes again, a sob caught at the end of it, and he Blinks down to street level. “ _ Mommy _ !” shrieks a child’s voice, and Corvo catches sight of a woman through the boarded up windows of the warehouse. The door has been nailed closed on his side, and it’s easy to break them with a few well placed hits of his sword. 

He moves into the warehouse, and stares. 

Standing on a rickety pile of boxes is a child, a little girl of perhaps ten years old, and she sobs quietly, her back to Corvo. Across the open floor plan of the building, is a woman, obviously her mother, as she stands on her own pile of boxes. 

Their separation becomes immediately apparent; the floor is boiling with rats. Five or six swarms of them circle and wheel around each tower of boxes, and where the rats aren’t gleams wet with blood and bone and viscera. 

The swarms slam into the boxes, shaking them from their sturdy positions. Someone is going to fall, and soon. 

He turns and digs through his scavenged pack, pulling out the three bottles of flammable Orobon Rum that Slackjaw had given him when he’d left for the city. He slams one of the bottles into the middle of a swarm, showering the rats with the liquid, and takes careful aim with his wristbow. 

He only has four explosive darts left, he has to make them count.

With a quiet  _ fwip _ , he ignites the rum drenched rats, and their squeaking nearly drowns out the sobbing of the stranded girl. The burning rats panic, slamming into their fellows, spreading the fire around, and Corvo flings another bottle, taking out a swarm in a gout of flame.

The woman has stopped screaming, and is instead staring at him, in absolute shock, her mouth half open. The rats are starting to scatter, and he only has one more bottle left. Reaching into his bag he pulls out a scavenged tin of whale meat, tugging it open and dumping it on the floor underneath his perch.

The rats left alive immediately wheel about and race for the morsels of food, fighting each other to get to it first. He drops the bottle on them, and shields his face as he shoots a second incendiary bolt. 

With a loud boom, the rats go up in flames, and what’s left of the swarm takes off, making for small holes and nooks in the floor of the warehouse.  Eventually the tide of their squeaking dies off, leaving only the small crackling of fire and the low sobs of the girl in the middle of the warehouse.

Corvo leaps down, stepping around rat corpses, and charred body parts. He keeps his sword at hand, just in case, and makes his way towards the little girl. “Hello,” he calls up to her, using his gentlest voice. “My name is Crow, and I’m going to help you down, alright?” 

She turns to look at him, her cheeks hollow with hunger and hard living, but her eyes are bright and wary. “My mother,” she starts, and looks over her shoulder where the woman waits. “Are the rats gone?”

He nods. “I’ve scared them off,” he says. “I know that you’re up very high and you don’t know me, but I can help you get to your mother.” He smiles up at her, the smile Mindy used to call his most effective weapon. “I promise, on the seven strictures, I am not going to hurt you.”

She looks over at her mother again, and Corvo can’t see her, not with the boxes in the way, but whatever she does, it must be an agreement. The girl looks down at Corvo and bites her lip, nodding. “Alright,” she whispers. “What should I do, Mister Crow?”

“What’s your name?” he asks her, putting his sword away and centering his stance. 

“Elaine,” she says, sniffling and rubbing at her eyes with her ragged sleeve. 

“Hello Elaine,” Corvo says gently. “It’s very nice to meet you. Can you jump down from there? I’ll catch you.” 

She eyes him, childish yearning and distrustful survivor all in one. “Promise?” she asks.

“I promise,” he says seriously, hand over his heart. 

Elaine looks around once, and then jumps. It’s easy enough to catch her, cradling her close to his body and holding her steady. “Elaine!” her mother cries and Corvo immediately moves around the boxes and heads toward the exit where her mother waits.

He hoists Elaine up onto the ledge, waiting for her mother to snatch her away and hold her closer before climbing up himself. “Thank you,” the mother whispers, holding Elaine tightly. 

“Of course,” Corvo says, bowing slightly. “I’m glad I was nearby.” 

She looks at him, and her blue eyes go very, very wide. “Oh  _ Void _ ,” she swears, taking a quick two step back. “You’re Corvo Attano. You’re  _ dead _ .” 

He breathes out slowly. “I am yes, and no, I am not.” He holds out his hands. “Clearly.”

Elaine turns to look at him, her eyes blinking in the dim light. “Mommy?” she asks, and Corvo takes another step back at the fear in her voice.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he says evenly. “I escaped Coldridge before… all this began.” He doesn’t recognize her, but he’s not really surprised by it. Everyone has changed in Dunwall. “I’m sorry,” he adds. “But if ever we met before this moment, I don’t recall.”

She eyes him for another second, still holding Elaine tightly. “Esma,” she answers shortly. “Formerly of the Boyle family.”

Startled, Corvo can see the resemblance, now that it’s been pointed out to him. Her fine blonde hair is tied up in a filthy, messy knot, her curves replaced with the bone weary thinness of starvation. “Esma,” he murmurs. 

Esma tightens her grip on Elaine. “Where have you  _ been _ ?” she hisses. “Do you know what you’ve done? What you started? Look at this place!” Her voice rises on a shriek, and Corvo flinches. “When you killed Jessamine--”

His jaw tightens and she cuts herself off. “I didn’t kill Jessamine,” he grits out, furious with her. “Burrows and his ilk hired someone else to do it - I was  _ framed _ , Esma!”

She gasps, taking another step back. “Burrows? Then… Oh, Waverly. Oh, sweetheart, dearest Sister. What did you  _ do? What did you do?”  _

Corvo narrows his eyes. “What are you talking about, Esma?” 

“My sister… she was Hiram Burrow’s lover,” Esma whispers, her already pale face gone white as whalebone. “She borrowed quite a lot of money from our father, would never tell us why. Not until Delilah came. Then she told us everything, she funded Burrows, she gave him the money - she said it was paid in full to  _ you _ .”

Corvo blinks, his heart pounding a rough staccato in his chest. He can barely breathe, the betrayal of his allies is still too close, even five years later. “Mister Crow?” Elaine asks, and he snaps his gaze from the floor to her. 

“I’m sorry,” Esma whispers. “We didn’t know.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Corvo says harshly. “What’s done is done. Jessamine is… she’s gone. I spent six months in Coldridge for it. It’s  _ over _ .” He takes a deep breath. “And we can’t stay here any longer. Can you get to the Hound Pits Pub?”

Esma frowns. “In… the Flooded District?” 

“Yes,” Corvo says sharply. “There is no time for delicate sensibilities now, Esma. If you want to make up for your sister’s sins, then go there, with Elaine. You’ll be safe, and she will be well taken care of.”

There’s another short pause before Esma nods again. “I can make it there.”

“Good,” Corvo says. “Tell the guards that I sent you and use my real name. Or ask for Gerome Burton, and Alexi Mayhew. Don’t get caught. Go.” 

Esma sends him one last heartbreaking glance before she disappears through the door and out into the alley way. He listens to her footsteps until they fade and he Blinks back over to the door he’d entered from. 

He’s not found a lot of food, but Corvo’s had enough excitement for one day. 

*

“Here,” Corvo says, handing Aurelia her bone charms. “Wear them in your ears.” 

They might be a bit heavy, but Aurelia gamely hooks them into her pierced ears, where they dangle fetchingly, spilling blue light over her neck and collarbones. She blinks twice, stumbling sideways a step. “Oh,” she breathes. “Crow,  _ thank you _ .”

She turns to face him, her eyes still holding a bit of the glow from his magic. “How do you feel?” he asks her, speaking at a normal volume.

“I feel  _ amazing _ ,” she says. “Thank you so much! I can hear!”

Aurelia spins around in a circle, grabbing up her sister and dancing right in the middle of his workshop. Sabina laughs, hugging her tightly. “I never doubted you, Crow,” she says, and Corvo smiles because he doesn’t need his old powers to know that’s a lie.

He startles back a step when Aurelia spins away from Sabina and pulls Corvo into an embrace. “Thank you,” she says again, and Corvo hugs her gently.

“Happy to help,” he says. 

Sabina watches him with dark eyes, and she says, “Delilah will likely come see you, for this.”

“Yes,” Corvo agrees, lightly urging Aurelia back toward her sister. “I assumed so. She’s always welcome.”

Aurelia smiles at him, so wide and genuine he wonders for a moment how in the world she had ever become a witch.

“There is no need for that, Sabina,” Delilah’s familiar voice says, and she steps into the doorway casting a long shadow across the floor. 

Corvo tenses, leaning back against his work table to hide it. “Empress,” he says, and sweeps a low bow. “A pleasure to see you again.”

Delilah slinks into the workshop, and he casts his eyes down to her shoes, watching with horrified fascination as flowers grow where she walks. She tilts his chin up, and he follows her motion, standing straight again. “A man though you are, you’re a skilled witch. Come with me, back to the Tower. There’s a place for you there.”

He blinks. “You hardly know a thing about me,” he says.

She smiles at him, teeth slightly too sharp and too large in her mouth. “I know that you helped them, and that you make bone charms - a thing no one but my beloved Breanna could manage. You mistake my offer as a request, Crow. You will come to the Tower with us.”

Corvo smiles back, lets her see the carrion eater inside that had been taken away when his Mark died. “Of course,” he says. “Just let me get my things.”

*tbc


	8. 8. DAUD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The closer they get to the building, the more Daud’s hand aches. His skin burns, and he curbs the urge to tug off his glove and check the skin on the back of his hand. The Mark has been gone for weeks, the sensation is all in his head._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for my beloved Dani, Lex, Estora, Taywen, Aeniala, Starbunny, and everyone who has left love, comments and asks about this universe. I appreciate you all so much, thank you. <3
> 
> (For everyone who has left comments on the last chapter, I will reply in about five minutes after I post this.)
> 
> Warning: this chapter contains some unkind themes about overzealous Overseers. 
> 
> As ever, I can be found [at Tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com), for all your needs. I follow back and enjoy conversation.

Just looking at the high towered walls of the Abbey at Whitecliff makes Daud’s skin crawl. He’s hungry, exhausted, and has absolutely no desire at all to step foot in the place that until recently would have killed him on sight.

Emily takes his hand, his left he notices, and threads their fingers together. Her face is smooth and expressionless but her trembling arm gives away her nerves. On her left stands Alexi, her mouth pinched and annoyed, as she listens to Havelock pontificating. “I don’t want to go in there,” Emily murmurs out of the corner of her mouth, eyes on the horizon.

The Abbey is garish, jagged monstrosity, it’s spires and towers marring the cliffside and blocking the watery sunlight. “Nor do I,” Daud agrees, tightening his grip on her hand. 

Alexi glances at them, her mouth softening into a smile. “It’ll be alright, Empress,” she says. “If your father were here, then maybe we’d have had an issue, but, no one here is a Heretic.”

Daud internalizes his wince, inclining his head in a nod instead. “That has rarely ever mattered to the Overseers, Miss Mayhew,” he says, thinking about some of the horrible things he’d seen as an assassin. He’d rescued a few of his Whalers from Overseers, once upon a time ago. 

The closer they get to the building, the more Daud’s hand aches. His skin burns, and he curbs the urge to tug off his glove and check the skin on the back of his hand. The Mark has been gone for weeks, the sensation is all in his head.

With the Outsider gone, or… dead… he has no true reason to fear the Abbey any longer. Their music boxes won’t work on him now, and he’s in the free and clear regarding Heretical marks. He doubts Campbell’s name will even be mentioned, and Burrows had been the one who hired him anyway.

His hand still aches though, despite all his ruminating, and he wishes he could have gotten away with wearing a Whaler’s mask. 

As they draw closer, two Overseers step out from behind the wide double doors heralding the entrance to the Courtyard. “Stop right there,” one of them says, voice muffled from behind his mask. Daud steps slightly in front of Emily, holding tightly to her hand. 

“Hello, Overseer,” Havelock says, and the edge of cordial joviality in his tone is frankly envy inducing. “I am Admiral Havelock, formerly of the Dunwall Navy. We come bearing news from Dunwall, and seek an audience with the High Overseer.”

The Overseers exchange a look, before they step back and push the doors open. “You will wait here in the courtyard,” the one on the left says, a heavy Tyvian accent rolling thickly out of him. “We will… discuss.” His partner, nods once and leaves the courtyard, slipping through a door on the other side of the yard.

Emily crowds closer, and surprisingly, so does Alexi, stepping into Daud’s side. He tenses slightly, when she wraps her arms around his bicep, but when all she does is stand there, he relaxes. “Sorry,” she murmurs. “This place is…  _ wrong _ .”

Daud nods shallowly, eyes darting around. He feels on edge, spine too stiff, like danger is around every corner. It’s been a while, but he remembers what the Void feels like when it’s concentrated around him. 

Havelock moves closer to them, placing a hand on Emily’s shoulder. 

He wants to move Emily away from him, but the Tyvian Overseer suddenly turns to look at them, following some sort of silent cue. “If you’re from Dunwall,” he says, the hollow eyes of his mask boring into them, “then you must prove you’re not a Heretic.” 

Instantly Alexi and Emily tug off their gloves and show their unmarred hands, while Havelock rolls the sleeves of his jacket away. Daud pauses, steeling his courage - he hates seeing the blank, bare skin of his left hand now - and lets go of Emily long enough to follow suit.

The Overseer though, scoffs. “You must not have spent much time in Dunwall,” he sneers. “The Witches there have no Marks on their hands. You prove nothing other than your willingness to listen to rumor and heresy. The Outsider works through many forms - not just hands.”

Daud’s lip curls. What the Overseers knew about the Outsider could fit in a thimble. “What do you expect us to do then?” Alexi demands. “The witches in Dunwall don’t respond to your music boxes, I was there at the failed assault, I remember.”

“Yes,” the Overseer says. “That is true.” He stares at them, blank empty sockets instead of eyes, and says, “We have found Marks on the Witches of Dunwall in strange places. One, under the lank length of her hair, etched into the back of her skull. Another had it on the sole of her foot.” He steps forward, just menacing enough that Daud pulls Alexi slightly behind him too. 

“Again,” he says, through gritted teeth, “What would you have us do?”

The Overseer’s mask never changes, but Daud can hear his smile. “Strip.” 

“ _ What _ .”

“Start with the women,” the Overseer demands, and several of his brothers materialize out of the area behind them, ripping Emily away from his grip. “If you refuse to unclothe yourself, my brothers will do it for you. We have had experience looking for Marks of Heresy,” the Overseer drawls.

“Daud,” Emily shrieks, and he spins, going for his sword. One of the other Overseers has her by the hair, as his hand goes for her vest, tearing the buttons off with a yank. 

He hasn’t killed in six years. 

Red spills over his hand when he slams his sword through the Overseers belly, ripping sideways and and shoving the dying body away from him. Emily’s vest is ruined, hanging off her too thin frame and revealing her tanned stomach and breast binding. There are tears in her eyes but her expression is mortified and angry. “You stay the Void away from my daughter,” Daud snarls at the rest of the Overseers. “She’s fifteen fucking years old, and you want her to strip in front of twenty grown men? You’re supposed to be above this sort of thing.” He tosses his sword to Alexi, who holds it steady, despite the hilt and handle being soaked in blood. 

Daud pulls off his jacket, dropping it around Emily’s shoulders. “Heretics!” the Tyvian Overseer shouts. “They refuse to submit to the credence of our Order!”

“Brother Zarko, enough,” a calm voice says, from the other side of the yard. 

Another Overseer, this one without a mask on, strides over to them. He’s tall, nearly the size of Corvo at full height, with dark skin and kind eyes. “I apologize,” he says, sweeping a bow that’s full of courtly grace. “I am Overseer Clemente. Brother Zarko, go report to High Overseer Khulan.” 

Zarko hesitates but Clemente stares at him placidly and he backs away. “Brother Clemente, these two have not yet proven they are not Witches,” another Overseer says uncertainly. 

Clemente rolls his eyes, to Daud’s complete and utter shock. “Brother Marko,” he says kindly, “Have you ever met a witch that didn’t immediately attempt to kill you when you forced them to do something? These women are not Witches.” 

“What about…?” one of them says, gesturing to their dead compatriot. 

Daud meets this Clemente’s eyes without remorse, tugging Emily close to his side. “Begin planning his Rite of Passage,” Clemente finally says. “Please, the rest of you, follow me.”

Daud’s coat is far too long and big on Emily but she wraps it around herself like a robe, burrowing into it. She can’t button it, not and have it drown her in dark red fabric, and Alexi tugs off her belt to wrap it around Emily’s waist, turning the coat into a thickly stylish half-dress rather than a tent. 

As soon as Emily can free her hands, she takes Daud’s again, uncaring of the tacky blood still on his palms. “You killed for me,” she murmurs. 

“Anyone who hurts you is fair game, Princess,” he murmurs back.

Emily bites her lip. “You killed him,” she whispers again. Daud feels the first welling of regret under his rib cage - not for killing the Overseer, but for doing it in front of Emily - and he nods once. “You… called me your daughter.”

Daud makes a face. “Are we really going to talk about this  _ now _ ?” he hisses. 

“If we don’t,” Emily says, “You’ll put it off until I forget about it.”

That’s unfortunately astute of her, and true enough. He sighs, and tightens his grip on her hand. “I promise, we can talk about it when we’re not here,” he says. “When we’re back at the Hound Pits.”

She looks up at him, eyes dark and too solemn in her tired face. “I’m holding you to that,” she says. 

He has no doubt about that.

*

Clemente brings them to an office high up in one of the Towers. The pull of the Void gets less demanding, the higher up they go, and Daud relaxes once the Overseer knocks on a door. “High Overseer?” he asks. “I’ve brought you our visitors.”

“Come,” a voice says from within. They enter the room to find another maskless Overseer - this one is likely Khulan - and a short, narrow framed Overseer with a hood up over his mask. “Overseer Darnell, please see to the guest wing and make certain our friends here will not be bothered,” Khulan instructs his subordinate. “We have business to discuss. Thank you, Clemente, that will be all.”

Clemente gives Emily and Alexi a smile, white teeth flashing in a kind grin, before he ushers the other Overseer out of the office, closing the door behind him.

“I am High Overseer Yul Khulan,” the North Morlish man introduces, staring at Emily with intelligent black eyes. “I apologize for the scene at the gate.” 

Havelock clears his throat, stepping forward. “We’ve come with some information,” he says. “And an offer.”

Khulan doesn’t look at him, instead staring over at Emily. “Make your offer,” he says to Havelock, a casual order that visibly rankles him. 

“We’re beginning the process of taking Delilah the False Empress down,” Havelock begins. “We will need a strong Overseer presence in the city once she’s been eradicated. It’s our hope that you and your men will join us.”

“My men,” Khulan says with slight tension, “were slaughtered.” He finally turns his attention to Havelock. “Surely you’re not insisting that my trained Overseers were unfit.”

Havelock looks so taken aback that Daud ducks his head. “Of course not, High Overseer!” Havelock protests. “But we have something you don’t,” he says.

Emily twitches, and Daud is suddenly very alarmed that Havelock is going to throw Corvo under the carriage for the sake of the crusade. “Me,” Emily says, before anyone else can speak. “They have me.”

Khulan’s attention returns to her. “If I’m not mistaken,” he says slowly, “You bear a strong resemblance to Empress Jessamine Kaldwin.”

Emily lifts her chin and Daud moves to stand behind her, one hand on her shoulder. “You’re correct,” she says. “I am Emily Drexel Lela Kaldwin,” she introduces. 

Khulan blinks at her. “Word is you died six years ago, after your mother was murdered,” he says blandly.

She returns his blank expression, merely lifting one eyebrow in an expression that’s all Corvo’s. “I got better,” she drawls. 

Daud stifles a smile at her answer while Khulan stares at her practically radiating disapproval. “This is not a flippant matter,” he says. 

Emily lips purse slightly in annoyance, Daud has never been more proud of her composure than he is at this moment. “I am quite aware of that,” she says evenly. “Trust me, High Overseer, no one is more aware of it than I am. My Lord Protector and I have just come from Dunwall, and the state it’s in, we’ve experienced it first hand.” She gestures to her state of dress, a severe look on her face. “One of your men just attempted to force me to strip naked in front of them. I am  _ very  _ aware that there’s a problem here. And right now, Overseer Khulan, I’m not so sure it’s the witches.” 

“Empress…” Khulan starts to say but she holds up a hand.

“You see, Overseer, when we take Delilah off the throne, and remove her from Dunwall - and we will - I want to know that the Abbey is a place full of people that I can trust.” She folds her hands on her lap, leaning back and giving him an appraising look. “Because, you see, the last High Overseer I knew hired an assassin to kill my mother, and framed her Lord Protector for the crime.” Her expression hardens with each word she speaks, letting them fall like knives in front of her. “And then, during my time in Karnaca, the Vice Overseer - a man appointed by  _ you _ \- attempted to murder the man I call father, in a very similar way to how your Overseer Zarko just behaved.” She smiles, but it’s not a kind expression. “My faith is very shaken right now, Overseer Khulan.”

Khulan sits back in his seat, appraising her with new eyes. There’s a measure of respect in his expression and Daud relaxes. “And what you have us do, Empress?” he asks.

“You could start by not accusing the Empress of heresy and witchcraft,” Emily answers him tartly. Daud nudges her gently and she sighs. “The first is this: begin assembling a task force, for when we go to battle, we will need all the help we can get. The second is to start thinking about how to clean up any… latent magic in Dunwall once Delilah has been removed.”

A considering expression flits across Khulan’s face. “You seem very certain you will succeed,” he says. “You may be the rightful empress, but you are not a witch, and the normal ways of suppressing a heretic’s power are lost to us.”

Emily levels a look at him. “I am certain,” she says evenly. “I can’t be anything else. Any doubt, any moment of weakness and she can exploit it. We’re not ready to take her on, not yet. But we will be, and when that time comes, I need my allies at my side.”

“Mm,” Khulan agrees without speaking. “And what do we get, Empress?” he wonders. “How do the Overseers gain from this improved alliance?”

For the first time since the conversation began, Emily falters. She glances over at Daud then at Havelock. “An increased Overseer presence in the city,” Havelock says, after a beat. “Especially for the first few years. Patrol Squads to join the City Watch, with cooperation from the Captain, Geoff Curnow.” Havelock smiles, but it’s too sharp to be a kindness. “And consider that if you don’t cooperate with the Empress, then the survivors of Dunwall will all know that the Overseers failed to help when a solution presented itself, and you won’t be welcome in Dunwall by any of the people, let alone the Nobles.”

Khulan meets his gaze head on, unflinching. “There is no need for threats, Admiral,” he says evenly. “The young Empress has my support. What she does with it will depend on how long she keeps it.” He nods once to her and Emily nods back. “Now, Clemente will show you to the guest wing. You can stay here for the night and morning, before you return to Dunwall.” He smiles, and it softens the lines of his face. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Empress, under the circumstances.”

Clemente waits for them by the door, the smaller Overseer called Darnell stands with him. “Come,” he says. “We will bring you to the guest chambers. They aren’t much, especially now that the Overseers have pulled out of Dunwall. But, they are warm and dry, and better than the cold winds outside.”

“I’ll find you a vest,” Darnell says, his voice soft and pitched low. “You’re about my size, Empress.” 

“Thank you,” Emily says, surprised. 

It takes them minutes to get settled, all four of them hidden away in a cramped room, with two beds and a few bedrolls. “I don’t mind sharing a bed with you, Alexi,” Emily murmurs, sitting heavily down on the edge of a mattress.”

Daud doesn’t look at Havelock. “I’ll take the floor,” he says, even though he’s far too old to be sleeping on the floor like a pup.

Leaning back against the door, watching Emily curl up with Alexi, Daud allows himself one moment of missing Corvo, before he too lays down to rest. 

It’ll be a long journey back to Dunwall tomorrow. 

*

They make it back to the city within a few days of travel, Overseers Clemente and Darnell with them, much to Daud’s intense displeasure. 

Clemente does away with the mask nearly as soon as they get back on the Undine, but Darnell wears the soulless thing the entire time, speaking rarely and only to Clemente. Khulan sends them off with kind regards, promising to recall Overseers back from all over in order to bolster their army, which plain makes Daud nervous.

Emily is her regal self, at least until Lizzie steers her ship away from the docks of Whitecliff and back to the East to circle the cliffs and head back to Dunwall. “I rather like Overseer Clemente,” she says conversationally. “He reminds me of my old teacher.”

Daud gives her a dubious look which makes her smile. “At least we’ll be back soon,” he mutters, ill tempered. “Being gone this long… makes me twitchy.”

She sobers, nodding, and turns her face into the sea spray. “I’m nervous too. The… what if something’s happened? We need better lines of communication.” 

“Maybe Sokolov can create something,” Daud murmurs. “Until that time though, we’re stuck with letters.”

With the Overseers around they’re very careful to never mention anything about the Outsider, or the powers they once hand, but Daud still feels on edge for the entire trip back to the Hound Pits. Even after seeing the now familiar building, the strange tight anxiety doesn’t abate.

In fact, it only grows worse as Alexi leads them back into their cordoned off area of Dunwall, and they’re immediately met by Gerome. He looks tired, worn out, and there’s a long cut across his face that definitely hadn’t been there when they’d left.

“What the fuck happened?” Alexi demands, grabbing his face and turning it this way and that, eyeing his wound.

Gerome grimaces and pulls away from her hands. “I’m fine,” he mutters. “We just ran into some issues out there.” He gestures. “I can see you lot were successful though.” He passes his gaze over Clemente and Darnell, but ultimately turns back to Daud. “We did a routine check of Corvo’s shop, a few weeks ago. I don’t… fuck. This is fucking stupid - Corvo is gone. His things have been removed, and he’s not been there in a… while.”

Emily keens, her hands flying to her mouth. “Gone?” she whispers.

Daud can’t respond at all. For the second time in his life, Daud’s world is ending.

*


	9. 9. CORVO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Corvo doesn’t even recognize the Tower._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, this is for my beloved Dani and Lex. With special thanks to Estora, Aeniala, Starbunny, Sera, and everyone who has read, commented, sent asks, or tumblr messages. Your support means so much to me, and I'm so, so pleased you're still with me.
> 
> I can be found at [Tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/), for all your needs. 
> 
> Thank you, all of you, for reading.

Corvo doesn’t even recognize the Tower.

The size and shape are just about right, but the entire outside walls are covered in vines. Plant life and murky water surrounds the area, and Corvo frowns over at a huge, coiling thing. It looks familiar, but he can’t quite place where.

“This way,” Sabina says, tugging on his sleeve. 

He falls into step with the twin witches, just behind Delilah as they enter the Tower. He looks around in absolute shock - if he’d been expecting things to be the same, he was sorely mistaken. This place bears no resemblance to the place he once called home. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Delilah says, watching him carefully.

“It’s certainly something,” Corvo murmurs, looking around. “This isn’t what I imagined,” he adds, pulling his eyes from the vine strewn chandeliers and looking at Delilah. “But it suits you.”

His blatant flattery makes her smile, taking years off her face. “Before we find you accommodations, my dear, there are a few people you should meet.” Corvo nods, and she reaches out to run her fingers over the mask. “While I was in your home, I didn’t ask you to remove this. Now though, you have entered mine.”

Corvo hesitates, just a little, fingers half way up to undo the catches. What if she recognizes him? He can really take that chance?

He closes his eyes and pulls off the mask, letting it fall to the floor between them. After a beat, he focuses on Delilah, searching her expression for recognition or anger. Instead, she looks thoughtful, and she says, “You shouldn’t hide your face, Crow. I didn’t expect your age, but you’re too handsome to hide behind ash and leather.”

He blinks slowly, and nods once. “I’ll endeavor to break the habit,” he drawls, scooping up the mask and hooking it to his belt. 

Ignoring the feeling of vulnerability, Corvo falls into step just behind Delilah’s left shoulder, following her down the hall and to the elevator. “Sabina, Aurelia,” Delilah barks. “You have patrol of the western tower and gazebo. Get to it!”

Aurelia gives Corvo a weak smile, before they Blink out of there, the Void puckering in their wake. Feeling increasingly more nervous, Corvo steps into the elevator with her. “Who am I to meet?” he asks, curiously, trying to calm is erratic heartbeat. 

“My Lady Protector,” Delilah says, with an unmistakable note of fondness. “Now hush, no more questions.”

Corvo chews on the inside of his lip, watching familiar floors through the crack in the elevator. It’s bittersweet, being back in the tower. Standing so close to Delilah makes his fingers itch and he burns to just end it all right then and there. “There is one other thing I must tell you,” Delilah says, breaking the silence. 

“Yes, your Grace?” Corvo prompts, turning to look at her.

She fixes him with a venomous glare. “Men are not usually welcome within my circle, Crow. I know far too well what men are like, and my girls have known far worse.” He narrowed his eyes at her, the beginnings of offense curling through him. “If any of my girls tell you  _ no _ , that is--”

She cuts off when Corvo snorts. “Grace,” he said, uncaring that he's interrupting, “But your girls have as much interest in my charms as I have in theirs.”

She blinks, considering him. “You prefer men?” She asks bluntly and Corvo inclines his head. 

“I have had female lovers, but that time for me is long over.” He lets sadness skate over his expression. “I have little interest in your girls, Grace. I swear it.”

Delilah’s face softens, and she reaches out to touch his cheek. “Your eyes have seen loss.” Corvo restrains his flinch - it seems Delilah is affectionate when it comes to those she considers hers. “None of my girls will force unwanted advances on you, Crow.”

He pats her hand. “I appreciate how well you protect what's yours,” he says. 

When Delilah smiles, she looks just like Jessamine. 

There's the sound of displaced air, almost as soon as they exit the elevator together. He tenses, going for his sword on reflex. “My Lady Lurk,” Delilah says warmly. “Meet our newest addition, the Crow of Karnaca.”

The woman who stands before him is dressed in a strange familiar red coat, the sleeves removed to show off toned arms. “Delilah,” she greets cautiously, something unnameable in her face. “You shouldn't go into the city without me. It isn't safe.”

Delilah laughs again, reaching out to pat Lurk. “Oh Billie, you always worry!” 

She swings her gaze to Corvo. “Crow,” she greets shortly. “Welcome.”

Corvo presses his hand to his heart, sweeping a courtly bow. “Lady Lurk,” he says. “An honor to make your acquaintance.”

“My Crow makes bone charms, true ones. Set him up with a lab.”

Lurk frowns, but slowly nods, eyes trained on Corvo with an intensity that burns. Her regard makes him uncomfortable, but he’s vulnerable enough in this place with these people, without showing it. “Of course,” Billie says, finally transferring her gaze from Corvo to Delilah. “The old Lord Protector's rooms have a fireplace, shall I move him there?”

Delilah saves a hand, clearly already on to other things. “Wherever is best,” she says. “We’ll have a feast tonight, I think. Bring him to his rooms, Billie.”

She transverses away, Void fluttering around the edges of her form before she goes. 

Standing with yet another perfect stranger, Corvo not for the first time, regrets agreeing to this insanity in the first place. “This way,” Billie says, and leads him up the main stairs. 

He knows the way, but he falls into step just behind her, making a point to step louder than usual. He could probably kill her, if he had to, he's old enough to be her father, and he wasn't the Lord Protector because of his looks. 

Out of the corners of his eyes, he can see other witches, as they Blink in and out of the galleries on either side of the main staircase. "Ignore them," Billie advises. "They're just curious. I'll tell them to leave you be." 

Corvo relaxes his shoulders. "I'm not used to an audience," he says, and Billie shoots him an amused look over her shoulder. 

The entire hallway is bursting with coiling vines and plant life, running roots under the red carpeting, and curling tree branches through the chandeliers. "You don't need to worry about an audience," Billie says. "As soon as they've looked their fill, they'll lose interest soon enough." 

"Charming," he murmurs. She leads him to his door, and Corvo is struck nearly silent with memories of a life before disaster. 

The room is a mess, every thing that was once his is gone, and no surprise there - but the bed is intact. There are vines across the floor, and a rose bush growing out of the wall, but it looks the same as it ever was. 

The door closes behind them, and Billie looks around the room. "I'll get you some things," she says. "What will you need?" 

Corvo eyes the corners of the room, setting it up in his mind. "Mostly my things from the Workshop. A stove, though if that isn't possible, a large enough cooking pot for the fireplace will do in a pinch." 

Billie makes a noncommittal noise and Corvo turns to face her. She's leaning back against the door and Corvo tenses, uncertain how to read her expression. "I know who you are," she murmurs, dark eyes intent on him. 

He freezes. "And who might I be?" he asks, muscles tightening. 

"You're Corvo Attano," she whispers, and Corvo moves before he's given himself conscious permission to do so. 

He Blinks across the space between them, slamming Billie into the door, his sword at her throat. Billie though, she doesn't move, doesn't flinch. Her heart beats a rapid staccato under his thumb where he pins her to the door. "Do it," she murmurs, leaning her throat against the edge of his blade. "You might as well get it over with, I should have died six years ago." 

"How do you know my name?" he hisses. 

Billie blinks at him, a long slow thing that betrays her exhaustion. "Six years ago," she says, almost conversational, "I ran with a gang. We killed for money, or because we felt like it. I'm... Not proud of the things we did. The things.. I did. I betrayed my friends, my... Family for Delilah. I don't even know if they're still alive." She looks up at him, face pained. "The last contract we ever took... It changed things." 

_ Oh. Oh no.  _

"Say it," Corvo growls. 

"It was Jessamine," Billie says, on a sigh. "The last contract we took... Was Jessamine." 

Corvo is very still, struggling back a tide of emotions. He Blinks away, leaving Billie slumped against the door. "Why did you tell me this?" he asks, hoarse. "What could you gain?" 

Billie slides to the floor, her arms draped over her knees. She looks small, and young and miserable there, and Corvo can see why Daud took her in as one of his. "Is it so surprising that I regret it, Attano? I abandoned Daud when he grew soft and weak under his own regret and now here I am in the same state. You should kill me. I didn't take the killing blow, but I held you down in order for it to land." 

Six years and Corvo can still feel the way the Void pushed him down that day. He shakes it off, and sits hard at the edge of the dusty mattress. "You kidnapped Emily." 

That makes Billie look away again. "I lost track of them. I know Daud took her to Serkonos, but... It's been so many years. I'm sorry, Attano. I probably cost your family twice over." Her mouth twists up, and for a moment he thinks she might cry. "I loved her once you know. Delilah. But now she... Well. Everything I love dies, Attano." 

"What do you want from me, Lurk?" he asks harshly. "A swift death? Compassion?" 

She laughs quietly. "I'll take the first if you're offering it," she says. "I doubt you're offering absolution." 

Corvo watches her steadily for a long moment. Slowly, he puts away his sword, and leans his elbows on his knees. "Lurk. You had a reason for revealing yourself to me. Whatever that reason was, we're now at an impasse. You know who I am - how can I let you free of this room to betray me to Delilah?" 

Billie shakes her head. "I've been keeping secrets from Delilah for so long that it's second nature to me. I can keep your name a secret too." 

Well, Alexi  _ had _ sent him into the wolf's den to gather allies to take Delilah down. "You told me your secret," he says. "Allow me to tell you mine." 

She looks up sharply, brows drawn down over her eyes. "I already know your secret." 

"You know my name," Corvo points out. "That's hardly a secret." Billie nods slowly, and straightens her spine. "This secret gets us both killed," he adds idly. 

"Tell me," she says. 

"He isn't dead," Corvo says cryptically. 

Billie stares at him, eyes wide before she Blinks forward, landing in front of him on the floor. Her expression is so painfully hopeful and desperate that Corvo feels a pang low in his side where regret lives. "Who?" she whispers, though she already knows the answer. 

Corvo leans forward, giving the moment the respect and reverence it's due. "Daud," he says in her ear. "He lives." 

Billie shudders, covering her face with one hand to hide her tears. "How do you know?" 

If he'd been in Karnaca, Corvo would have grinned, tipped a wink, and said he's the Crow King and knows everything. But here in Dunwall, where the sun rarely shines, and everything is damp and rotten, he instead touches her lightly on the shoulder. "Because he came here with me," he tells her gently. 

Her head shoots up, nearly hitting Corvo's forehead with hers. "Then you know?" she breathes. "You know what we did?" 

"Oh I knew a long time ago," he says. "We've... Worked past it. And Emily is fine, as well. Flourishing, in fact. He raised her well." 

Billie looks so shocked that Corvo is briefly concerned she might fall over and do herself an injury. "He's here in Dunwall?" she repeats. Corvo nods, ready to catch her if she does collapse. "Then you're here to... End it." 

He inhales slowly and nods once. "I am," he agrees. 

She presses her lips together at his answer, heartbreak clear on her face to see. "I once loved Delilah with everything I had. I gave up so much for her, my home, my friends, my family. Daud. I abandoned the one person I trusted above all others, and at first... It was glorious. We were queens at the top of the world, and she loved me - Attano, she loved me." Billie looks away. "But something changed, and Delilah no longer looks ahead, but behind. She takes other lovers now, and I don't... Matter to her, anymore. It's like a veil has been lifted off my face. I see now what I gave up, and even if I can't have it back, I can at least make up for what I've done." 

"What are you saying, Billie?" Corvo asks seriously. 

Billie meets his gaze dead on, determined and bright with pain. "Let me help," she answers. "Let me  _ help _ ."

*

Corvo has never been more uncomfortable in his life.

Safely between Aurelia and Billie, he manages to eat a little of the food in front of him, though it’s increasingly more difficult the more witches Blink into the dining room. His face itches for his mask, but Delilah had made it clear enough that she didn’t care for it, and so he left it in his room. 

“My darlings,” Delilah says, as the rest of the witches Blink in and take their places, a roughshod order to their seating arrangement, and all the whispering stops immediately. “We have a special guest with us,” she announces.

He stiffens by degrees and Aurelia glances at him out of the corner of her eye, head tilted slightly to the right. She reaches out then and takes his hand, linking their fingers together. He glances down to her lap, where she’s dragged his hand, her dark skin turning white around the points of contact and she squeezes hard, grounding him. 

“The Crow, most recently of Karnaca,” Delilah says, finishing her speech. 

A few of the girls closest to Delilah strike up a rousing protest, that Corvo can’t quite follow, but seems to do with his gender, before Delilah hisses a sibilant sound that shuts them up nicely. “Dearest Crow,” she purrs. “Why don’t you introduce yourself.”

Aurelia lets go of his hand at the last second, and he stands, feeling her fingers curl around his knee. “As her Grace said,” he says, evenly. “They call me the Old Crow. I’m a bone carver from Karnaca. If anyone has a bone charm they require fixing, or an idea they want made, if it’s within my power to do so, I will.”

He goes to sit down again, but Delilah holds up a hand. “It seems some of my girls here are doubtful of your connection to the Void,” she says, with a wicked smile. “Why do you give us a demonstration.”

It’s not a request.

Corvo could Blink, if he thought that would be enough. He could scream, toppling the things on the table. Or he could fling out blood red thorns from his hands. Those are powers he stole from Delilah, though - he needs something that only  _ he  _ can do.

He sighs, closing his eyes and reaching out for his connection to the Void, feeling it sitting under his skin like an old friend. Corvo dives in, widening the pool of mana and magic inside him and galvanizing it into an inferno.

He knows what he looks like when he does it, his skin darkens, and his tattoos light up with a thin silvery light, using the ink set in his skin as a conduit. That would be intimidating enough, but Corvo opens his eyes, and lets the Void look through.

Delilah shivers with the Void herself, Blinking and landing on the table just in front of him. The Void inside Corvo dies abruptly when she touches his face and he has to fight seven kinds of instinct to not flinch away from her touch.

“Where did you learn this?” she demands, fingernails digging slightly into his cheek and jaw.

“I taught myself, your Grace,” he murmurs. “I found a crack in the world and stepped through. I came out… well. This.” 

With another sound of displaced air, Delilah Blinks away, returning to her space at the foot of the table. Corvo takes that time to pack away the Void, pulling it back inside himself and sitting gratefully down. 

Aurelia takes his hand again, and he links their fingers. He can’t trust her - he can’t trust  _ anyone _ \- but it’s good to feel a kind touch again.

Delilah goes around the table, introducing her witches but Corvo only catches a few names out of the deluge of information. He gathers that Billie is held in the highest regard, followed by a young woman named Esther, and then another named Caroline. Aurelia and Sabina seem to be low on the list of importance, but Corvo likes them, insomuch as he can like any of them.

Once Delilah is done speaking, she sits at the head of the table, and lifts her fork. “You may eat,” she tells her witches, and Corvo tries to focus on the plate in front of him.

“Crow,” Aurelia murmurs. “You must eat.”

He takes a halfhearted bite of the bread in front of him, trying to unknot his stomach. 

He misses dinner at the warehouse in Karnaca, listening to Rulfio and Rinaldo bicker loudly over whose turn it is to clean up, while Thomas threatens them both with a good thumping if they don’t hurry up and start. He even misses Kita’s acerbic barbs, and Cici’s dry sarcastic quips. 

He misses the way Galia and Jacobi, and Jenkins would sneak out of nightly clean up by disappearing as soon as the food was finished, literally Blinking away to parts unknown, while Aedan and Jordan would just start cleaning up around the bickering duo. 

Corvo exhales sharply and pulls his plate closer to him, eating with one hand. It does no one any good to dwell in the past.

*


	10. 10. DAUD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Are you injured?" She shakes her head. "Is Thomas injured?" She shakes her head again, opening her mouth to speak. "Rulfio? Rinaldo? Pip?"_
> 
>  
> 
> _"Daud, no!" Emily says, and holds out her hands to stop him from speaking again. "Corvo's here!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, this chapter is for my beloved Dani, Lex, Estora, Sera, Aeniala, and all the people who reviewed (I'm about to reply to those in just a minute!). All y'all mean so much to me. 
> 
> This chapter is rated X for explicit - please be aware that a large portion is NSFW. 
> 
> You can find me at [tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/), for all your needs :)

"Daud!" Emily hisses. Her hands grab his shoulder and shakes, hard. "Daud, wake up! Wake up, wake up!"

He opens one eye to glare at her. "Is it daylight?" he asks flatly.

She frowns, looking over at the window obviously. "Well, no."

"Are you injured?" She shakes her head. "Is Thomas injured?" She shakes her head again, opening her mouth to speak. "Rulfio? Rinaldo? Pip?"

"Daud, no!" Emily says, and holds out her hands to stop him from speaking again. "Corvo's here!"

The words take a second to sink in and then Daud is moving. He scrambles to his feet, reaching for his shirt that Emily hands him when his hands come up empty. "How long ago?" he demands.

"Maybe ten minutes," Emily says. "He appeared in the courtyard, with a woman. I saw him from the window of the children's tower. As soon as I could I came to get you."

He nods, accepts her help in shoving his jacket on, and takes her hand as they creep through the old servant's quarters to get outside. As soon as they hit the stairwell, Daud hurries down them, taking them two at a time.

By the time he gets outside, Alexi and Havelock have already dressed and met them. Emily reported correctly, close to Corvo's side, with her hand on his elbow, stood a woman. She was clearly uncomfortable, sticking close to him. Daud feels a spike of alarm at that, and stops just outside the doorway of the Pub.

“Daddy,” Emily cries, and if her voice had been strong before, it no longer is. She races away from Daud’s side, flinging herself into Corvo’s arms, and holding him tightly. Corvo cradles her close, but his eyes are on Daud’s.

Slowly, Daud moves across the muddy yard toward them, and Emily pulls away so that they can greet each other. Corvo, though, doesn’t move in - not even for a handshake or a quick brief hug. He instead takes a step back and Daud can feel ice fill his chest at the lack of personal greeting.

“Daud,” Corvo says quietly, and nudges the woman at his side. “I have someone here that you’d like to meet, I think.”

He frowns, the ice spreading, because this - it looks bad.

When the woman doesn’t turn, Corvo looks annoyed, taking the woman by the shoulders and forcing her to turn around. Her eyes are averted, staring off to one side, but Daud would know that face _anywhere_.

“Billie,” he chokes out.

A corner of her mouth lifts in a sort of grimace, sort of smile. “Old man,” she murmurs, and the ice in Daud’s chest collapses.

“ _Void_ , Billie,” he says, taking in her clothing, and her bearing. She’s dressed like the rest of the witches, except she’s wearing his old red coat, the sleeves removed, and Daud can see where thorns grow up and around her arms.

She finally meets his eyes, and hers are full of regret. “I… maybe understand you a bit more,” she says, a hint of self-deprecation in her tone. “I left back then because I didn’t, and now? More than ever, I know what it is to _regret_.”

Daud swallows hard, staring at her. “Tell me why?” he demands.

Her lips twitch down, and she looks away. “I loved her,” Billie answers simply. “She was enchanting, and wild, and free, and she reminded me so much of…” Billie trails off. “But I couldn’t have both - she wanted the Throne of the World… and you wanted to flee to Karnaca. I chose her.” She looks back at him, dark eyes expressive. “I chose poorly.”  


“Then why are you here?” he demands.

He’s probably handling this wrong - she’s sore and hurting, and heartsick - but Daud still feels the bite of her betrayal like it was yesterday. Nothing can make him forget walking into the Butcher’s quarters and finding her Whaler’s mask left behind like a half baked apology, of realizing her things were gone. That she had taken her sword, her wristbow, and half of Daud’s heart with her when she left.

“I’m here because I knew Attano when I saw him. And I owed it to you,” Billie snarls, taking a half step forward to look up at him. Thorns wind their way around her arms like living vines, and her hands curl into fists. “I didn’t fucking know you were here.”

Daud scoffs, waving that away. “Void’s sake, girl,” he growls.

“She’s not the same,” Billie says, her stance softening. “The Delilah I loved is gone, and whoever she is now is just a monster wearing her face. I’m through, old man.”

Corvo clears his throat gently and steps slightly in front of Billie. “That’s not strictly true,” he says. “You can help me.”

Billie turns to stare at him. “What?”

He looks uncharitably amused at Billie’s abject confusion, but his smile is kind. “I’m not in Delilah’s Tower because she’s a witch and I’m a witch. I’m in Delilah’s Tower because I’m there to take her down, this, you already know. You wanted to help. Here’s how.”

Her mouth opens and closes twice before she crosses her arms over her chest. “You want me to betray her.”

Corvo only shrugs one shoulder. “Haven’t you already, by coming here with me? You know who I am, you could have told Delilah immediately when you saw me. I would never have seen it coming. But instead, here you are - here _we_ are - standing in the heart of the Resistance, and you haven’t even made noise about bringing the other witches here.”

Billie scoffs. “Most of the other witches are twitterpated idiots who can’t think their way out of a barrel.”

That only seems to amuse Corvo further. “So help me take her down.”

Daud reaches forward, taking Billie’s left hand in his. “Billie,” he murmurs.

Her fingers close reflexively on his but she looks away again, eyes a bit too bright. “Are any of the others here?” she asks.

He nods. “Thomas is, of course. Rinaldo and Rulfio, and Pip.”

Billie’s face softens into a smile. “I’ve missed them. Missed you too, old man.”

Corvo withdraws slowly, pulling Emily with him. “We’ll get the others,” Emily says. “Welcome back, Lurk.”

“I haven’t decided anything,” Billie says, hissing like a scalded cat.

But Emily lifts an eyebrow and glances around obviously. “Haven’t you?” she asks, and before Billie can grow even more outraged at her audacity, Emily disappears into the Pub with Corvo on her heels.

“I’ve learned after a year of being with them both that it’s easier to just gracefully admit defeat,” Daud says dryly. “Quite frankly, Billie, I didn’t expect to see you ever again - you said it yourself, you made your choice. No use wondering about changing it.” He managed to find a small smile somewhere, though it felt tight and false. “You could do the people here some real good,” he added, not gently. “You said you left for Delilah’s love but we both know you left because you were sick of me.”

“Daud,” Billie says, shocked into using his name.

He holds up a hand. “No use denying it. You stopped trusting me, and you left. It’s fine, it was six years ago. But now you’re back, and you have the unique ability to completely betray us. Again.”

She shuts her mouth, the skin around her eyes visibly tightening. It’s good that he can still so easily see her tells, but he’s concerned that Corvo chose this one wrong, that this wasn’t one of his impossibles. Billie could ruin everything.

“You weren’t yourself,” Billie says. “You were a shell, you were barely anything!”

Daud snarls, spinning to loom over her. “I changed,” he says, low and dangerous. “Now’s your chance to do the same. Don’t waste it.”

He backs off when Rulfio and Rinaldo tumble into the yard, scrambling towards Billie to drag her into a hug. Emily leads Thomas and Pip, both of whom clearly were still half asleep. In the shadow of the door though, Daud can see Corvo, and his mind made up, he strides towards him.

He’s not going to let Corvo escape without saying a proper goodbye.

*

He finds Corvo leaning against the bar in the Pub, a glass half full next to him. He's running his fingers over the rim, a low hum resonating around him.

Corvo looks up, a half smile flitting over his face. “You're a sight for sore eyes,” he says, looking back down at the bar top. “Didn't expect you to come in so soon.”

Daud shrugs, moving up to join Corvo at the bar. “She missed the others too. Wasn't just me she abandoned.”

Corvo inclines his head. “That's why I left her out there with you.” His smile widens. “I've missed you,” he admits. “If I kiss you, will I be welcome?”

Rolling his eyes, Daud steps in, pulling Corvo's hand away from the glass and tugging him close. Corvo's free hand slides up, rubbing his thumb under the hinge of Daud's jaw and sinking into the hair at the back of his head.

Daud leans his forehead against Corvo's, feeling his chest loosen at the contact. “How much time do you have?” he asks, not moving away.

“Billie and I bought us the night, but we have to be back before dawn,” Corvo answers. “Time enough to share?” he wonders, and a familiar apprehension rises through him. He barely tenses but Corvo pulls back, hand still on the back of Daud's head. “Daud?”

“I…” Daud says slowly. “We didn't have a chance to talk, before.”

Corvo frowns, a brief but potent fear flitting through his expression. “About…?”

“What happened in the attic, against the door,” Daud says.

“Ah,” Corvo says, and tugs Daud in for a kiss. “Are you worried that I'll expect things to change? What happened was a bodily function,” he says. “If you wanted things to change, that would be one thing. Until that day…” He shrugs, the same mischievous smile on his face. “Just kiss me.”

Daud hauls him in, spinning so he leans against the bar with Corvo pressed against him. They kiss gently, a hello, until the spark that Corvo fans in his blood ignites. Forgotten lust slams into him, and he pulls Corvo harder against him.

Corvo grins against his mouth, letting Daud manhandle him.

It's not an ideal position, they're exposed, in the middle of the main floor of the Pub. But Daud just accepts Corvo's weight, wrapping his arms around Corvo's waist.

Daud bites his lower lip and Corvo laughs breathlessly. “Tease,” he murmurs fondly and Daud smirks, scraping his teeth in another kiss against Corvo's jaw.

“You like it that way,” he grinds out, dotting kisses across Corvo's jaw and down his neck.

“That's true,” Corvo says, laughing, fingers clenching on Daud's hair.

The sound of displaced air, and the now-sour smell of the Void interrupts them, and Daud finds himself several steps away, Billie's jacket briefly under his hands, before she transverses back to Corvo.

Thorns and spikes grow out of her arms, and she holds Corvo against the bar. “I trusted you!” She screeches.

Corvo holds his hands up, alarm open on his face. “Billie?” he asks, cautious.

The thorns grow in length, the edges turning a bright, vibrant and dangerous looking red. “I trusted you,” she snarls again. “What did you threaten him with?!”

Corvo blinks, then clarity dawns on his face like a lightning strike. “Um,” he says, clearing his throat awkwardly, “Daud. Could you tell her that I’m perhaps not forcing you?”

Daud blanches, mortification turning his face a hot, dull red. “Billie!” he snaps. She glances at him, obviously unconvinced. “I know what you think, and three years ago you’d have been right. But Corvo’s different. We’re… partners. Together. He’s not making me do anything I don’t want to.”

If she requires more detail than that, Daud thinks he might disappear on the spot, Void powers or no Void powers.

She frowns at him, then at Corvo, as the thorns recede slowly until it’s just her arm, barred across Corvo’s throat. “You don’t do that,” Billie says unnecessarily.

Uncomfortable, Daud shrugs. “You lost the right to be able to dictate my actions six years ago,” he said plainly. “You don’t know what I do, or how I’ve changed.”

Shock makes her take a step back, and Corvo settles back against the bar, leaning his elbows against it, as though he hadn’t a care for his own safety. Daud knows how ruthless Billie could be - he’d trained her himself, after all - and he has a moment of true concern. “Daud,” she says, turning to face him.

“No,” he says, forbidding and annoyed. “What I chose to do with Corvo is my business, and his. You left, Billie, you missed the last six years of our lives, and haven’t bothered to find out anything but the basics.” He can feel his jaw tighten. “I don’t have to explain it to you,” he adds, when Billie opens her mouth. “Go back out and see Pip, the twins and Thomas. This stopped being your place six years ago.”

“I still care!” she explodes, her posture squaring up. “How many times did I chase off people for you? How many excuses did I make to the others when you didn’t join them for Fugue? This isn’t _you_!”

Daud swipes a hand through the air, cutting her off before she can continue. “I already told you,” he mutters. “Corvo is different.”

Corvo, who had been watching him with a soft expression, slides his eyes away from Daud to the door. “Thomas,” he greets, far more pleasantly than their current situation dictates.

Thomas fills the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest, a forbidding expression on his face. “Billie,” he says, and Daud blinks at his second in surprise. Thomas rarely emotes, choosing to keep his expression and voice even and without note. At the moment, however, his voice is a whipcrack of annoyance and judgement. “When you said you were getting drinks, we expected you to return, and not threaten the Crow.”

Billie’s expression flickers then closes entirely and she disappears in a flutter of magic and Void, appearing behind the bar and collecting whiskey. “I take it you’re aware of… this,” she says, with an expansive sweeping gesture.

Tilting his head to one side, Thomas regards Corvo then Daud, and it’s all Daud can do not to snort at the expression in Thomas’ eyes. “If you’re talking about their partnership, then yes, of course I am. I’m Daud’s second, after all - if I didn’t know, I’d be a very poor one.” The strike hits home, and Billie flinches. “If you’re talking about their relationship, I know about that too.” Idly, Thomas leans against the wall, lifting a brow. “No one else has an issue with them,” he says, not unkindly. “So long as everyone is healthy and happy. Wouldn’t have thought you were one of _them_.”

“Them?” Billie asks, like she can’t help but dig her own grave in the conversation.

“Sure,” Thomas says. “One of the Overseer bigots.”  


Billie sucks in a sharp breath, and even Corvo startles a bit from his position against the bar. “How can you even say that to me?” she chokes out.

“I can say it because you’re acting like it,” Thomas says sharp, and unapologetic. “Let Daud alone, and don’t you dare ruin his happiness a second time.”

Daud pulls a face, and when Corvo vanishes in a flicker of Void, he leans back against Corvo’s shoulder, knowing instinctively that’s where he’ll reappear.

Billie looks like her entire world is collapsing and Corvo must take some pity on her, because he sighs. “Lady Lurk,” he says formally, “I’m not going to hurt him. And whatever you have to work out with him, I won’t get in the way of. I swear to you, I have nothing but his best interests at heart.”

Thomas moves into the room, and again, Daud is painfully surprised when he doesn’t transverse, to take Billie’s shoulder. “Come on, Bils,” he murmurs. “Lets get the Twins drunk and see how much they can piss off the Overseers.”

“Please don’t piss off the Overseers,” Daud says immediately.

Shooting him a small grin, Thomas shrugs. “We’ll see,” he says insolently, and leads Billie out of the building, leaving Corvo and Daud alone again.

“Well,” Corvo says. “That was… informative.” He presses a kiss to the side of Daud’s head. “Mood totally ruined?” he wonders, running what felt like the backs of his fingers up and down Daud’s spine.

Daud turns to face him, leaving no space between their bodies. He nudges Corvo’s temple with his own. “If you have until dawn,” he says slowly, “then, we should go upstairs.”

He can see the quick flash of Corvo’s grin out of the corner of his eye, before Corvo tugs him close. “Hold on,” he murmurs in Daud’s ear.

Secondhand transversal is never Daud’s favorite thing, and he stumbles a little out into the attic room, trying to get his bearings. Corvo steadies him with a hand on his elbow, fingers light and gentle and achingly familiar.

“Seems like it was just yesterday,” Corvo says, looking around the room, still touching Daud’s elbow. “I… what’s wrong?” he asks, cutting himself off, clearly having focused on Daud again.

Daud shrugs, being careful to not to dislodge Corvo’s hand. “I got used to you,” he mutters, averting his eyes. “These last months have… hurt, more than expected.”

Corvo doesn’t exactly soften, but something in his expression crumples and he tightens his grip on Daud’s elbow. “I agree,” he murmurs. “Delilah has destroyed a part of me, I’m glad to be the one who takes her on - I’m happy to help Samuel and the others. But… Karnaca was better. I miss that.”

Instead of replying - because what is there to say? - Daud leans in and kisses him.

Corvo smiles against his mouth, kissing back, pulling Daud in close.

They don't have a lot of time, Corvo still has to travel across the city before dawn, and the hours are passing too quickly.

“How do you want to do this?” Corvo asks him, mouth pressed just under his jaw.

Daud tilts his head, thinking it over, unconsciously giving Corvo more room to nuzzle his throat. “Lay back,” he decides, and pushes Corvo against the bed, joining him nearly immediately.

The bed is still too narrow for them, with Corvo on his back and Daud tucked into his side, but Daud isn't going for comfort.

He's missed Corvo, more than he'd ever thought possible.

Corvo is looking at him with a soft expression, none of the guardedness from earlier present. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Still good?”

Daud nods, leaning up on his arm to kiss him again. “I'm good,” he says, and it's almost true. He _hates_ feeling awkward, and there's been enough time since he'd thought about intimacy that he can't figure out what to do with his hands for a long, mortifying second.

Corvo cups his face, bringing him in close for a soft kiss. “You sure?” he asks, with a small smile.

“I… don't know what to do,” Daud admits, the confession dragged from him.

“You don't have to do anything,” Corvo says instantly, and Daud gives him a look to tell him exactly what he thinks of that suggestion. “Alright, alright,” he says, laughing a little. “What do you _want_ then?”

What Daud wants is something he'll never say out loud.

“I want to touch you,” he says.

Corvo smiles. “Yes, please.”

Daud snorts, laying a hand over Corvo's ribs. He's momentarily taken aback, even through the thick leather vest and ablative fibers, he can feel how thin Corvo's gotten. Daud trails his fingers down to Corvo's hip, able to count all of his ribs as he goes.

Corvo's gaze slides away from his, when Daud looks up in askance. Deciding to leave that - for now - Daud begins sliding his fingers through the gaps in the vest, pulling the buttons open. Corvo shivers hard, the exact way he'd done back in Karnaca the first time Daud had done this with him.

Corvo's shirt is untucked, and once he's free from the vest, it's easy for Daud to slide his palm up under it to touch skin.

He's cool to the touch, and Daud's concern for his health grows a little more. But his reaction to Daud pressing his band into the muscle of his chest is gratifying, and Daud sets to work.

He only has a few hours, he's going to make them count.

Daud brushes his fingers over Corvo's right nipple, keeping his touch light and with little substance. Corvo's groan erases his more immediate concerns and Daud sets to work taking Corvo apart.

He shifts up onto his left arm, giving him more leverage.

He trails his fingers over Corvo's chest, rubbing his fingers between the dips in his ribs, over his nipples, pinching lightly when Corvo arches. Daud rolls his fingers across Corvo’s nipples, relishing in his quiet groan.

Daud drags his hand across the expanse of Corvo’s skin again. “Mm,” Corvo murmurs, turning his head to press his temple to Daud’s. “I’ve missed this,” he admits.

“Me too,” Daud says. “We’ll have to make this one count.” He pinches harder, feathering his thumb over Corvo’s nipple, alternating sides. He grins when Corvo whines, and he arches his chest up into Daud’s hands.

Corvo’s chest is too broad for Daud to be able to stretch his hand across comfortably, so he settles for dragging his blunt nails back and forth over and between Corvo’s pectoral muscles. His nipples are hard, standing at points under his shirt, and Corvo’s whines are growing in volume each time he scrapes his nails over them.

He sits up, pulling Corvo with him. “Let’s move,” he says, urging Corvo to lean against him just like the first time. With Corvo resting against him, Daud can go back to rolling his fingers over both his nipples, keeping the touches light between rough pinches.

He hooks one of Corvo’s ankles with his own, and Daud pulls Corvo’s legs out and open, baring him to the room.

Even through his pants, Daud can see that Corvo is hard, and Daud rewards his pliancy with twin hard pinches to Corvo’s nipples that taper off into a rolling swipe with the side of Daud’s thumb.

Corvo’s hips jerk up and his quiet whine tips up into a loud groan. Daud pinches him again, then returns to barely there touches that cause goosebumps to break out all over Corvo’s chest and arms.

“Void,” Corvo groans, hips hitching up in short aborted thrusts. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Daud grins, placing a nipping bite against Corvo’s pulse point. “Not at all,” he answers. “Just making sure you don’t forget me.”

He punctuates that with another rough pinch, rolling his thumb hard against both of Corvo’s nipples.

Corvo’s hips ride the air, and he makes a punched out sound of pure desire that makes Daud flush with a strange prickling heat. “Bloody Void, Daud _please_ ,” Corvo says, chest heaving in his hands. “I’m going to come if you keep that up,” he admits all in a rush when Daud pinches him again.

He’s clearly not exaggerating, his pants are stretched over his erection, a damp spot visible against the seam.

Sliding his hands out of Corvo’s shirt, he trails his fingers over the bulge in his pants. Corvo whines, head thrashing on Daud’s shoulder. The wet spot on Corvo’s pants isn’t exactly pleasant to touch, but Daud shelves the aversion in the efforts of driving Corvo out of his mind.

Corvo’s hands fly down to grip the blankets as Daud rubs his cock through his clothing, and his cry is loud in the otherwise silent building. “Void, _fuck_ , please, Daud I need to - _please._ ”

Daud pauses, giving Corvo some time to calm down before he tugs open Corvo’s pants. He’s a little impressed, to be honest. Corvo is hard enough to make getting out of his clothing slightly difficult. His cock is a flushed red, darker at the head. “You are desperate,” Daud notes, trailing a fingertip around the tip of him.

Corvo whines again, knocking his head into Daud’s. “It’s been months!” he says, voice catching. “I need - Daud. Please.”

Daud smirks. “Not yet,” he murmurs. “I told you, we’re going to make this count.” He trails another finger around Corvo’s cock, then down the length. Taking pity on Corvo’s increasingly desperate pleas, he fists his hand around Corvo and strokes once.

Corvo cries out, rolling his hips up. Daud lets Corvo fuck his fist for a few minutes. “Daud, please,” Corvo breathes, twisting in Daud’s grip.

“Thought you liked being teased,” Daud murmurs in his ear, leaving behind a sharp bite.

“I do,” Corvo grinds out, voice utterly wrecked. “You know that, I do. I’m - just - so close.” The last word comes out as a thin, reedy whine, when Daud bites the side of his neck lightly.

Daud presses a series of kisses to Corvo’s throat and jaw, being careful not to leave any marks. “I don’t know when we’ll see each other again, Corvo - I want this memory to last. I want you to feel it tomorrow, the next day. I want you to _ache_ with it.”

“Void,” Corvo swears, craning his head to the side to kiss Daud. “Didn’t know you had it in you,” he says, breathing hard.

Snorting Daud flicks his hip. “Don’t be cross,” he says. “You’re not going to annoy me into cutting this short.”

Corvo laughs, giving him another kiss. “Worth a shot - _oh_ .” He arches into Daud’s grip as Daud starts up a long slow stroking rhythm. “Fuck Daud, you’re not being _fair._ ”

Daud smirks again. “I know what you like, Corvo.” He twists his wrist and Corvo chokes on a cry. “Just because I don’t want this done to me doesn’t mean that I don’t like doing this to _you_.” He grins wider, biting Corvo’s shoulder gently. “Let me have this.”

Flickers of the Void catch around Corvo’s tattoos as he fights for control over himself, and then he nods. “Yes,” he whispers. “Yes, alright. Whatever you want.”

Biting back a swell of emotion at Corvo’s utter trust, Daud sets to work.

He doesn’t press Corvo down, but he holds his hips steady as he strokes Corvo’s cock with hard, fast strokes.

Corvo whines and keens, rolling his hips up into Daud’s grip, his cries getting louder. Corvo is hard enough that his cock, when left alone, smears up and against his belly. Daud changes the angle and Corvo chokes on a cry, hips twisting. “ _Please!”_ he sobs into Daud’s shoulder.

Daud trails his finger around the red-purple head of Corvo’s cock. “Still good?” he asks.

Nodding, Corvo presses his face - hot and damp with sweat and tears - into Daud’s neck. “Yes, still good,” he pants out. “Please don’t stop.”

He strokes again, very briefly and Corvo seizes up, a drop of liquid beading the tip of his cock and Daud stops again, squeezing the base of Corvo’s cock tightly.

“ _Daud_ ,” Corvo breathes, arching and trembling in his arms. “Void, Daud, please, _please.”_

Daud has held the lives of Empresses, assassins, and nobles in the palm of his hand - nothing has ever made him feel as powerful as he does in this moment, with Corvo’s perfect trust in his arms.

He digs his thumb under the now darkly flushed head of Corvo’s cock, rolling the ball of his thumb there. Corvo nearly comes off the bed, and his legs fall open even farther, giving Daud more room to work. “Daud,” Corvo says, his voice wrecked, fucked out, and thick with emotion.

His hips arch up hard enough that his shoulders knock the breath out of Daud’s chest and looking down at Corvo’s twisted expression, judges his need is extreme.

“Alright, Corvo,” he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Corvo’s head. “Come for me.”

He begins a rough and quick rhythm, twisting his wrist and dragging his thumb over the tip every other stroke.

Corvo stiffens, arching up. His mouth opens in a silent scream as he comes, and comes, and comes. Daud strokes him through it, until Corvo finally relaxes against him. He wipes his hand on the sheet, rolling Corvo over and wrapping his arms around him. “Too much?” he asks.

“No,” Corvo says, planting a kiss in the center of Daud’s chest, melting bonelessly into his arms. “It was good. Overwhelming, but good.” He rests his chin on Daud’s sternum. “Where’d you learn that?” he asks.

“Book,” Daud mumbles. “It was a long boat ride to Whitecliff.”

Corvo’s eyebrows shoot up. “To _where_?”

“You heard me. Havelock and Alexi wanted Emily to get the new High Overseers approval. He sent to Overseers with us - Clemente and Darnell. They’re bunking in the old warehouse with everyone else.”

“How’s _that_ been going?” Corvo asks, a bit incredulous.

Daud makes a considering face. “All told, not terribly. Both Clemente and Darnell are Morlish, and our reputation wasn’t as popular that far North, at least.”

Corvo snorts. “Sadly, two Overseers won’t pack enough of a punch to really hurt Delilah.”

Daud sighs. “As long as we keep trying,” he says.

Leaning up to kiss him, Corvo links their fingers.  “I have you, and Emily, and the whalers. We’ll make it through.” His face and voice fall a little. “But I owe the Outsider this - I have to. Avenge him.”

Daud rests his forehead against Corvo’s. “I know. We’ll avenge him. Together.”

Corvo nods. “Together.”

*


	11. 11. CORVO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Daud,” he murmurs. “Daud, wake up.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Daud tightens his grip. “No.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, this is for my beloved Dani. Special mentions for Lex, Sera, Sasha, Estora, Taywen, and Aeniala! Your support means everything to me. Also, whiskeyandcigars, who joined AO3 recently. Thank you so much for your lovely comments and reviews, y'all. I appreciate them like you wouldn't believe.
> 
> I can be found [at Tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/), for all your needs. I follow back and enjoy conversation. <3
> 
> Y'all. I cannot wait for you to read this chapter.

Corvo rouses out of his light doze, seeing Billie standing in the doorway. “Crow,” she says, “We have to go.”

He nods. “Daud,” he murmurs. “Daud, wake up.”

Daud tightens his grip. “No.”

Laughing softly, Corvo nudges him again, kissing his chin and jaw until Daud tilts his face down for a proper kiss. “Daud,” he chides, pressing his nose to Daud’s cheek.

“Fine,” he grumbles. He opens his eyes, and follows Corvo off the bed. Billie has vanished from the doorframe, so Corvo feels confident in catching Daud up in a kiss before leaving. “Take care of Emily for me,” he says.

“Be safe,” Daud replies back. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Corvo grins at him. “Me? Never.”

“Lies,” Daud says. “Get going.” He takes Corvo’s hand until they reach the main floor, and then, with an apologetic squeeze, drops it.

Emily hugs him as soon as he walks properly into the room. “Emily,” he murmurs into her hair. “I miss you, darling mine.”

“I’m still mad at you,” she mumbles. “But I miss you too.”

He kisses the cap of her hair. “I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

Emily rests her head against his shoulder, squeezing him tightly. “Be careful, daddy,” she whispers.

Corvo submits to brief - surprising embraces from both Rinaldo and Rulfio, before he joins Billie at the door. “I’ll be in contact,” he promises, and before he can be tempted to stay, Blinks away.

Billie keeps up with him admirably, but she flags near Kaldwin’s Bridge, or at least what’s left of it. “Sorry,” she grunts around the lip of a Remedy bottle. “Didn’t mean to threaten you.”

Corvo shoots her an amused glance. “You did, a bit. But it’s fine; you were trying to protect him.” He rubs his throat, though he’d sustained no bruises. “I understood.”

But Billie shakes her head, guilt, shame and pain warring across her face. “When I was his second, I used to watch his back. Sometimes people would attempt to save their coin by offering him… more physical currency.” She makes a face. “Daud told me once how he loathed to be touched, that he didn’t…” she trails off, searching for the right words.

He holds up a hand, stalling her. “You are aware that my relationship with Daud is none of your business?” he asks. Billie nods, her face falling. “Then I will say this once, and only once: what Daud and I have isn’t traditional, true, but I am perfectly aware of his preferences. I would never - will never - make him do something he doesn’t want. Clear?”

“Yes, clear,” Billie says. “Here. Split it? I don’t want to watch you fall. Old man.” She hands him the half full vial of Piero’s Remedy, which he takes without a fuss. He doesn’t really need it, his jacket and vest are completely flush with his personalized bone charms for mana, and magic and power. But he’ll take the peace offering if Billie is extending it.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “We should move on. Are you ready?”

The expression on her face might even be called a smile when she nods. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Together, like children playing Catch-Me-If-You-Can, Corvo and Billie chase each other’s Blink trails across the city. They make it back to the Tower in record time, and Billie steals them both into the kitchens. There are four servants at rest there, their expressions blank and their eyes hollow.

One of them stands like a mechanical doll, her lips jerky and inhuman, like someone had told it how to move when it had never learned on its own. Whatever - whoever - they had been before, there wasn’t anything left now. “L-L-L-Lady L-L-Lurk,” she says, with clacking teeth and a strange not-quite-right intonation. “Are y-y-you hung-g-g-gry?”

Corvo recoils, away from her grasping fingers, and the hollowing empty Void inside them. “No,” Billie says, infinitely gentle. “No, Morgan, I’m not hungry. I don’t need anything.”

The maid - Morgan - turns her head toward Corvo, the bones in her neck popping as she strains her body past its limits. “And y-y-y-you?”

He restrains his reaction and shakes his head. “No I’m fine, thank you.”

Her duty done, Morgan lowers herself back into the seat, expression going still. Only proximity allows Corvo to see the faint rise and fall of her chest. Billie takes his sleeve and pulls him away.

“What happened to them?” Corvo asks, as they travel up the stairs to the front hall.

Billie grimaces. “Stare too long into the Void,” she quotes, trailing off.

“And it stares back?” Corvo finishes, somewhat dry.

Billie looks uncomfortable with the reminder of his eyes - she turns her face away from them, breaking their eye contact. “You were always meant to be a part of the Void,” she says, a strange certainty about her. “Those poor souls were not.”

She pushes open the door and comes face to face with Delilah. “Billie,” the Empress greets, acid and ice clinging to her tone. “Crow.”

To her credit, Billie doesn’t flinch. She smiles brightly at Delilah, and bows low at the waist. “My Lady. You’ve fortuitous timing. Now we can walk together.”

Taking her cue, Corvo bows as well. “Thank you for the enlightening tour, Lady Lurk,” he drawls. “Though if I get lost in the future, I know who to blame.”

Billie rolls her eyes. “The old Crow got lost,” she half explains, half complains.

Delilah’s furious expression fades to surprise then deepens into amusement. “In search of a snack, Crow?” she prods lightly.

“Hey now, Grace,” he says with a smile. “Bone charming is hard work.”

Billie snakes an arm around Delilah’s waist. “It’s late,” she murmurs, and the heat in her gaze makes Corvo look away. “Come to bed with me, _Empress_?” Delilah allows herself to be drawn away, and relieved, Corvo makes his escape.

*

Something reaches out of the darkness.

It slides toward him, inexorable and alien, there’s nowhere to _go_ , no where to _Blink_. It rises above him, darker than the Void - for this must be the Void - darker than the unlit streets of Dunwall at night. The thing regards him almost curiously, as the Void pieces itself around Corvo.

The ground, solid under his feet turns into cold black stone. He finds himself alone on the platform in a sea of nothingness. The Something is massive, boiling and moving under him, over him, everywhere. It has no discernable features, no one point to focus on, but Corvo gazes up at it to the best of his ability.

“What are you?” he calls out to it, voice barely even a sound, lost in the expanse of broken, unprotected Void. The creature makes a low sound - mournful, angry, hopeless - and it echoes across the wasteland. Corvo bites his lip, taking a step closer. “.... Outsider?” he whispers, a foolish hope.

The low growl cuts out, leaving the Void utterly silent - it’s preternaturally still, so much so so that Corvo can hear the blood pound in his ears. “Outsider, please,” he begs.

Incredibly, the thing _laughs._ It starts as a low rolling chuckle, scraping across his brain. The platform shakes with the force of the laughter, and Corvo stumbles, falling to his knees.

The darkness presses closer, and Corvo realizes with a pang of horrified terror that the creature isn’t moving _through_ the darkness, it _is_ the darkness.

A thousand arms shoot out with too many hands and too many fingers to wrap around him, clinging to his clothes, threading through his hair. There had only ever been one person Corvo had truly feared, and the thing, the Darkness, grips him with the same madness and malice Teague Martin had.

Corvo would really, _really_ like to wake up now.

 **THE OUTSIDER IS DEAD** **_,_ ** the darkness says, out of a thousand gaping mouths. Corvo flinches and the darkness laughs again.

He looks up into looming inky blackness and says, “What are you then?”

The mouths split into grins that contain too many teeth. **WE ARE THE VOID** , it answers, curling around Corvo. Fingers wrap around his throat, holding him securely. Coldridge flashes across the matte expanse of the darkness, echoed in Corvo’s mind. **WE ARE…** the darkness pulls and lifts him off the platform, leaving him dangling in the nothing. **DARKNESS. DEATH.** The mouths widen into snarls. **LEVIATHAN.**

Corvo swallows hard. “Can you… put me down, maybe?” he asks.

 **YOU ARE… INTERESTING** , Leviathan intones, opening a thousand pairs of eyes to stare at Corvo. The eyes are horribly human, of all shapes and sizes. They are all of them lidless, all of them bulging, and all of them unbearably afraid. **HOW IS IT YOU CAME TO BE HERE, LITTLE CROW**?

Throat dry and aching, Corvo whispers, “I was asleep. I was - am - connected to… the Outsider.”

Leviathan makes a noise that slams pain through him. His arms ache, his eyes burn, and teal blue Void-light cracks open his skin, illuminating the many fingered hands in sharp, alien detail. **DEATH DEALER!** Leviathan hisses. **NECROMANCER!**

“No!” Corvo gasps out.

 **YES,** Leviathan thunders back. A fresh wave of pain rips off more of his skin and the Void-light contained with him spills out, leaking mana everywhere. The arms around his waist tighten until Corvo is barely breathing. Pain pulses along with his echoing heartbeat. **HE DIED TO SAVE YOU, DEATH DEALER** , Leviathan laughs.

Corvo’s heart breaks.  

“No,” he says again, weak, airless.

 **YES,** Leviathan replies, a sibilant hiss. **WE ARE FREE BECAUSE OF YOU, LITTLE CROW** . Corvo’s heart is bleeding bloody ribbons into his chest, and the tightness in his lungs has nothing to do with the Leviathan’s grip. **YOU BELONG TO US NOW, BETRAYER.**

Judging his time of relative safety is coming to a quick close, Corvo struggles against the arms and fingers holding him.

Leviathan begins dragging him closer, and Corvo kicks away a many handed arm. **HE FOUGHT TOO,** Leviathan says idly, dangling Corvo upside down above the bulk of its avatar. The mouths slide over the expanse of black, merging lipless into a gaping maw of a thousand million teeth.

It gnashes up at him, and Corvo for a brief, unhappy moment, wonders what happens if you die in the Void.

 **WE ATE OUR JAILER,** Leviathan screams. **WE TOOK HIS PET. OURS NOW, OURS!**

The eyes littering every available space on the Leviathan, bulge horribly before popping, one by one, disappearing - all but for one pair of dark, ocean blue eyes that fix Corvo with an unblinking stare.

There’s something almost human in the depths of those eyes, and Corvo stares back, instead of at the chomping mouth just below him.

Something cuts through the sound of grinding teeth and the horrible too human laughter - it’s faint, but Corvo would recognize that sound anywhere.

Whalesong.

He twists, dragging his eyes from Leviathan, and there - heading toward him; a great whale, small but moving powerfully. Corvo summons up his courage - and his power - and _Blinks_.

Leviathan screams, but Corvo has already translocated, landing - if barely - on the back of the whale.

The animal about faces, sinking away from Leviathan. Corvo turns to watch it, seeking out those human eyes. They find Corvo immediately, their stare a tether before they close and disappear into the moving, rippling darkness.

The Void wavers around them, and Corvo is underwater.

His rescuer pulls him up to the surface of the ocean, basking in the mid-morning sun as Corvo lays on its back. He sits up, slow and confused - he’s on the wrong side of Dunwall Tower, the cliffs are rising above him, and through the glare, he can see the roof of the gazebo.

The whale rolls carefully, looking at him with one baleful eye. “You saved my life,” he murmurs in shocked wonder.

The whale lifts its tail, slapping it down to the water. Highlighted by the sun, Corvo sees it: a jagged scar cuts through the meat and muscle the exact size and shape of a harpoon.

“You?” Corvo says. “You’re the one from the Void. The survivor of the massacre.” Whalesong, mournful and muted, reaches his ears. “Thank you,” Corvo breathes. The whale begins to sink down below the waves, leaving Corvo floating in the water.

The song trails off, heading toward open ocean, and, once its gone, Corvo strikes out for shore.

He’s too old for cliff climbing. He’ll try the waterlock first.

*

Swimming around the point of Dunwall is exhausting - by the time he reaches the waterlock, his physical stamina is all but depleted, and whatever magical energy survived Leviathan’s attack is barely enough to get him up into the dock proper.

He stumbles, hair and clothes streaming cold salt water and he looks up to find Delilah only a few feet away. “Y’Grace,” he slurs, tongue thick with both thirst and exhaustion. When he tries to stand, he only lists to one side, muscles completely refusing to hold up his weight. Warm hands catch him before his face hits the stone floor, and Corvo blinks blearily at Delilah.

She holds him to her side, letting him lean against her with no regard for the water soaking into her fine clothing.

“Here,” she murmurs, lifting a blue remedy to his lips. He drinks it as she tilts it slowly, and he sighs in relief as the energy in his body begins to repair itself. Once the remedy is gone, she produces a red Elixir and helps him drink that too. “Tell me,” she says, and though her voice is a demand, it’s a gentle one.

“I… woke up in the Void,” Corvo says. “Something… pulled me in. It was darkness. Malice. Death.” Remember the way it had held him makes him shiver. “Leviathan.”

Delilah frowns, then begins unbuttoning his shirt -- he tries to protest until he looks down at the sodden material and sees what she does. Water has made the white shirt nearly transparent, and his skin, seen easily is nearly black with reddish pink blooms along his belly and sides.

She pushes his shirt down over his shoulders, and Corvo feels dizzy. There are bands of purple-black bruising spanning his entire belly, hip and chest area. On top of the bruising there are deep puncturing bites - all human sized but with needle like teeth. The wounds bleed sluggishly, some worse than others, likely from where he’d struggled.

“It was going to eat me,” Corvo finishes, almost absently, staring down at his chest in morbid fascination.

He’s almost glad Daud isn’t here to see him like this.

Delilah’s fists clench and with several pops, more of her witches appear around them. He recognizes Sabina, but the others are only familiar in the broadest sense. “The Crow has lost a lot of blood,” Delilah barks. “Get him to Katya! Now!”

Sabina and another witch Corvo thinks is called Esther gather him up carefully. “I can go myself, Grace,” he murmurs but stumbles when his left knee - the one Martin had kicked out - gives way beneath him.

“You cannot,” Delilah snaps, rising with him. “Do not argue. Sabina go.”

Corvo wants to protest again, but his words are sucked away as Sabina Blinks them away. His consciousness only lasts another Blink before awareness fades out.

He comes to in a tub of water, his head pillowed on warm towels.

The water is hot and pungently fragrant. Every single part of him aches, and he groans softly, trying to sit up in the water. “Ah,” an unfamiliar voice says. “You are awake. Empress will be very pleased.”

Corvo turns to look at the witch sitting at a desk, her dark hair a wild and messy halo around her face. He doesn’t recognize her at all and he frowns. “You are being very injured,” she adds, her accent thick and Tyvian. “I am Katya, Royal Physician.”

Corvo’s eyebrows raise without conscious decision.

Thankfully, Katya only laughs. “It is ridiculous title, no?”

Though she drops all the definite articles from her speech, Corvo understands her easily. “It is,” he says, thinking of Anton and his previous self importance. “I imagine I have you to thank for my continued good health?”

Katya inclines her head. “Yes. You will be very… mm… sore. For many more days. Elixir closed bite marks - they were deep, not unlike hagfish. Bruising though, that is being harder to treat.”

“I can handle the bruising,” Corvo assures her.

She nods, makes an expansive gesture toward her table. “I give you salve,” she says. “Put on every day.” She stands, much taller than Corvo suspected. “You, stay in bath. Empress will come speak to you.”

Corvo has exactly one second to be utterly alarmed by that before Delilah appears in the room. The flowery smell intensifies, and Corvo looks behind him, seeing that the room’s far wall has been turned into an elaborate vertical herb garden - and every flower in bloom has begun straining toward Delilah.

He startles when she perches on the edge of the tub, but she doesn’t pay his nudity any attention. “Katya says you’re healing well,” she comments, fingers dipping into the water.

“The bites are healed,” Corvo agrees. “Though I will remain bruised for some time.”

Delilah hums, eyes raking over him. “This Leviathan. What was it?” He eyes narrow in thought. “I believed the Outsider my only opposition.”

Corvo’s broken heart grinds into dust but he makes himself say, with no inflection, “Leviathan gave a very thorough report; the Outsider is dead.” He takes a deep breath. “Leviathan _is_ the Void.”

“That’s absurd,” Delilah says, finally looking Corvo in the face.

Tilting his head as though in deference to her point, Corvo shrugs. “I was dragged out of your Tower and deposited in the sea when I escaped it, Grace. I think my tolerance for absurdity has been… raised.”

Delilah actually laughs and Corvo’s breath catches. He didn’t want it to be true, but when she laughs, and the line of her mouth turns down as she smiles, Delilah looks _exactly_ like Jessamine.

“You never had a Mark?” Delilah asks him, still smiling Jessamine’s smile.

Corvo gestures to the tattoos adorning his right arm from wrist to shoulder. “Only marks I have are woman-made,” he answers.

Delilah’s fingers trail out of the water to trace the line of crows that circle his bicep. “These are not mere tattoos,” she says.

  
He manages to keep from flinching but only barely. “Mindy, the woman who designed and inked them added whale oil to the mixture,” he says.

“So when you channel the Void, you can spirit away its energy.” Her fingers trail down his arm, then up again, tracing whorls over the ball of his shoulder. “How fascinating.”

Corvo shifts in the tub, turning to face her. “Your Grace,” he says in gentle reproach. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Delilah meets his eyes. “You haven’t taken any of my girls to your bed - not even Billie, though you’ve had ample opportunity.”

Blinking, Corvo decides honest would better serve him than any elaborate lie. “I got the impression from Lady Lurk that had I desired such a thing, I’d have found myself missing the parts required, Empress.”

Delilah barks a laugh, and her hand resumes its exploratory journey over his arm. “You’r e not wrong,” she says. “I expected there to be trouble, Crow. A single man in a tower of women.”

Corvo catches her hand in his. “I have as much interest in them as they in me,” he repeats. “You cautioned me with good reason, before. I certainly wouldn’t cause trouble after we already spoke of this once.” He picks her up other hand, holding them both. “I’m flattered,” he adds, pushing back his revulsion and kissing her fingertips. “But I prefer men, put plainly.”

There’s something approving in her gaze when she pulls away from him. “Of course,  Crow. If you do not want my body as a reward for your information and survival, perhaps this will suffice instead.”

The back of his left hand burns with familiar soul crushing pain. When Corvo looks down, a Mark is fresh on his skin. It’s both like, and unlike, the Outsider’s Mark, in that is created of of stark black lines. But Delilah’s Mark is a flower, a rose, wound tightly with thorns.

She’s watching him carefully when he looks up. “Empress,” he breathes.

“Delilah, now,” she corrects. “You’re one of mine, bound to be me by arcane magic and blood.” She lets his hands drop. “Rest, Crow. You’ve earned it.”

Once he can no longer hear her footsteps, Corvo pulls his knees to his chest. He hides his left hand under his right, unable to look at it, unable to stomach seeing the Mark of the woman who killed the Outsider on his flesh. It feels like the ultimate betrayal. Leviathan had been right.

With that thought in mind, Corvo lets the tears come.

*


	12. 12. DAUD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _No matter which way he looks at it, Daud has just signed someone’s death warrant._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of the new game drop; this is the next chapter, a little later than normal but yesterday was... a bit long. Let's say. 
> 
> Of course, this is for my beloved Dani, Estora, Aeniala, Taywen, starbunny and everyone who has or had left comments, asks, and messages over this fic series. I know we're all about concerned about the new game - I for one refuse to kill the Outsider, fuck _that_ noise - so I hope this chapter at least, gives you something new to think about. 
> 
> I love you all. 
> 
> I can be found [on Tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/) for all your needs, as per usual. <3

Daud can hear their bickering from the other side of the Hound Pits. Emily and Pip are doing a marvelous job ignoring it, as they instruct the older children how to slip grabs, fall without injury and to break grips. Under Burton’s watchful eye, and Thomas’ gentle reminders, the kids are doing well. 

When the shouting reaches maximum volume, and begins including words little ears aren’t supposed to hear, Daud sighs and pushes away from his spot to go deal with it.

Sokolov is looming over Piero, who seems to be waving what looks like a miniature whale oil tank around. “Whoa!” Daud barks, “What in the Outsider’s name, are you two even  _ doing _ ?” He plucks the tiny tank out of Piero’s grip and sets it carefully on a table. “Seriously, what in the hell is wrong with you?”

Piero, at least, looks chagrined. “I had an idea,” he says before glaring myopically at Sokolov. “But  _ someone _ insists it doesn’t have merit.”

“Sokolov,” Daud says dangerously.

“It will be a foolish waste of energy, and the whale oil shortage is at an all time high!”

Daud holds up a hand, stalling Piero’s angry retort. “Is that the  _ only _ issue?” he asks.

Grudgingly, Sokolov mutters, “it is a… viable idea. But impossible without more oil.”

“I can get more whale oil,” Daud says. “There’s a refinery not far from the old Rudshore district. I know it quite well.”

Piero nods emphatically. “Yes, yes, I know it, it was abandoned long before Delilah took up regency.”

“Impossible,” Havelock says, entering the room. “The place is crawling with weepers and River Krusts.” He frowns at Daud. “It’s been locked up for longer than most of us here even remember.”

Daud gives him a withering glare. “Yes, I’m very aware of that, Admiral. It’s fine, it doesn’t matter.”

Incredulous, Havelock comes farther into the room. “It doesn’t  _ matter _ ?” he repeats. “Unless the lot of you are heretics like Attano, I don’t see how you can possibly counter a locked steel door.”

“Easily,” Daud says. “As I have the key.”

Looking flummoxed, Havelock stops, his mouth half open. “You do.”

Daud ignores him. “Thomas,” he says, mild and expectant. His second detaches from the shadows at the back of the workshop, stepping into the light. “Get the others.”

“Aye, boss,” Thomas says, and disappears out the door.

Havelock blusters loudly, whatever shock he’d felt clearly has passed. “You cannot possibly bring Miss Emily with you!”

Raising an unimpressed eyebrow, Daud says, “You cannot possibly believe she’d allow me the opportunity to even consider leaving her behind,” he says.

“Damn straight I’m not,” Emily says, striding into the workshop with Pip and the twins on her heels. “Rudshore was our home, and I’m not a little girl.” She buckles on Daud’s wristbow and smoothes the sleeve of her dark blue whalers jacket. “Well?” she prompts.

“What would your father say about you walking into such danger?” Havelock asks, and Emily’s eyes narrow dangerously.

She crosses her arms over her chest and turns her gaze to Daud. “I wonder. What  _ does _ my father say?”

Havelock’s face turns white and furious at the implication, but Daud can’t bring himself to care. “I put you in danger six years ago, no need to deny us the tradition,” he says, mildly. 

Emily’s expression evens out. “Thank you,” she says as prim as any empress. “Should we ask Mr. Beechworth for use of his boat?”

“A solid plan,” Daud says, allowing his pride in her critical thinking to be audible. “Rin, Rulf, accompany her, please.” He turns back to Havelock, waiting for Emily to get far enough away before speaking. “Corvo Attano put me in charge of her when you sent him off to fight on the front line,” he snarls. “Do not presume to take over.”

He jerks his head at Pip who immediately falls into step with him. “I d-don’t like the way he l-looks at her,” Pip whispers.

Daud’s mouth tightens. Neither does he.

*

“Fire in the hole!” Rulfio shrieks, tossing a grenade overhand, and ducking back under the marooned and tilted over boat. There’s a loud boom, then a wet squish sound and several thumps.

“Well,” Thomas says dryly, “If the weepers didn’t know we were here, they most certainly do now.”

Daud snorts. “It seems without the pups to keep the Krusts in check, they’ve well… multiplied.”

Pip pulls a face. “I hated that job,” he mutters, little trace of his stutter now that they’re out of the Hound Pits and close to the place he’d once called home. 

“We have matching acid scars,” Rinaldo says, gesturing to his brother.

Emily rolls her eyes, tilting her head to look at them. “Tell me that one of you didn’t go out and get scarred up on purpose to maintain your indentical-ness.”

“Of course,” Rinaldo and Rulfio chorus.

Thomas looks up over the metal edge of the boat. A glob of acid flies over his head. “You missed some.”

Rulfio produces another grenade with a flourish. “Dearest brother, would you do the honors?” 

Rinaldo beams, snatching it and priming the handle. “Don’t mind if I do!” He tosses with envy inducing accuracy, and it explodes as soon as it touches the remaining cluster of Krusts. 

Daud sighs, but gives them their head, not bothering to curb their relentless, and enthusiastic moods. The Hound Pits is often dour and bleak - even with children around, there is little to laugh about. 

“Alright, alright, go and gather the pearls, quickly,” Daud instructs. “Thom, Pip, go set the flare for Mr. Beechworth to bring the boat around.” He glances at Emily. “You and I are heading into the Refinery to get whale oil canisters.” 

Without powers, getting into the control booth for the mechanical stairs is difficult, but he braces himself against the wall, and cups his hands on his thigh. Emily steps onto them, then to his shoulder, and into the booth. “Careful of broken glass,” he calls after her.

“Yes, dad,” she says, sounding perfectly aggrieved. “Uh.. the Controls need more whale oil.” An empty canister thumps into the mud next to him.

Daud hefts it up, carrying it over to the pump. Hooking up the tank, Daud pulls the lever and holds his breath. After an endless seconds delay, the whale oil flows.

The twins join him, pockets visibly bursting with pearls. “Fan out,” he tells them. “See if you can find any empty containers.”

“Aye boss,” they chorus again.

Once the tank is full, he carries it carefully over to Emily. He holds it up, feeling the weight lessen when she grabs it. He doesn’t do her the disservice of telling her to be careful, but he holds himself tensely until he hears the magnetized snick and the sound of obsolete machinery activating.

Emily jumps down from the control booth, using Daud's shoulder as a brace. The old stairs for the refinery lower slowly, grinding and screeching with rust and age. 

They lower most of the way before they ground to a halt, several yards above the ground. 

Pip jumps over the barrier, heading over to the dangling stairs. “I can pull them down, boss!” he calls over. 

“Go ahead!” Daud calls back, helping the Twins lift their found canisters and bring them over to the dispenser. 

With a loud grunt of effort, Pip jumps up and using his weight, pulls down the stairs.

The metal screams as it lowers but after a second or two of struggle, Pip managed it. He turns toward Daud, grinning.

Then Emily screams.

Pip’s face morphs from pleased excitement to concern to terror, as the hoard of rats swarms around him. 

Daud clenches his fist, ready to transverse him out of there. The split second of horrified realization is enough for Rulfio to bolt across the yard and grab Pip around the waist. 

He might have made it, had they still had magic. Rulfio and Pip manage a foot of movement before rats pour out of the refinery. In moments they're buried, collapsing under the weight of the swarm.

Rinaldo howls.

Emily darts over to Daud, grabbing a vial of chokedust off her belt.

Yanking the tab off with her teeth, she flings it into the mass of swarming rats.

Some of the rats hare away, disappearing into cracks and holes, but a large portion of the swarm hasn't moved. In the rolling mass, Daud can see flashes of a sword, as one of them fights back.

Emily flings another vial of chokedust, and more rats peel off from the mass. Blood sprays, and there's a high, thin cry the exact cadence of Pip’s voice. 

“Move!” Thomas bellows, and Emily and Daud split, each leaping to the side.

There's a whistle, then a booming crackle as Thomas fires Howler Bolt after Howler Bolt into the swarm. They scatter just long enough for Rinaldo to skid toward Pip and his brother, dragging them away.

Both are coughing and hacking - a result of the chokedust - and they're covered in small red, oozing bites.

Rulfio’s face is a ruin of bite marks and scratches, blood pours out of a particularly nasty rend,; just under his left eye. Pip’s face is bloody, but it’s his throat that concerns Daud the most. The rats had gone for the soft tissue there, and Thomas is busy ripping his shirt to use it to wrap around Pip’s wounds.

“Boss,” Pip says, his voice wrecked. “Boss, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to… was too slow.” 

“Shut up,” Daud says roughly. “You couldn’t have known.”

Emily jostles Daud’s shoulder. “I can see Sam’s boat. I’ll get him, he can bring PIp, Rulfio and Rin back.”

Rulfio makes a broken noise of protest, trying to bat away Rinaldo’s hands. “We need the oil,” he protests. 

Emily and Rinaldo hush him in stereo. “Sam can leave with the three of them, and bring them straight to Anton and Piero, then come back for us,” she says firmly. 

It strikes Daud then that Emily, who for the last five years has insisted she wants nothing to do with the nobility or the throne that’s rightfully hers, will make a fantastic Empress. “Boss,” Rulfio says, sounding pained and weak.

“Emily is right,” Daud says. “We can stay and get the oil, you two need to go.”

Emily clearly takes that as permission, because she darts off toward the shoreline. “You’ll be alright, Rulf,” Rinaldo says, holding his brother as close as possible. “Just breathe.”

It’s only a few minutes until Emily reappears with Samuel who takes a gratifyingly short time to access the situation. “Can you walk?” he asks Rulfio kindly, and Rulfio nods shallowly. 

Together, Samuel and Rinaldo get Pip off the ground with Rulfio staggering behind, moving toward the skiff in lurching half steps. 

“Boss, you sure?” Rinaldo asks, one foot already in the boat. 

Daud shoves him lightly. “Get going. Thomas, Emily and I will be fine.”

Rinaldo doesn’t require much more convincing than that, and he gets the rest of the way into the boat. “I’ll be back for you,” Samuel promises, his eyes kind and worried enough that Daud wonders if he’s going to return to the Hound Pits to two dead boys.

As soon as the sound of the boat fades, Daud turns to Emily and Thomas. “We run this like a job,” he says, quick and urgent. “Fast, silent, efficient. No movement wasted, no extra shit.” They both nod, faces serious. Emily is too young to remember when they ran  _ real  _ jobs, but Thomas does and his spine straightens with the urgent and familiar tones of assassination. “Thomas, get up into the refinery. Emily, I want you on the stairs. When Thomas comes out with an empty canister, you’ll throw it to me. Clear?”

“Clear,” they chorus. Thomas jogs over to the stairs, testing their weight and sound. Emily watches him carefully and Daud is so Void-damned proud of her when she follows Thomas up the stairs by stepping exactly where and how he is. 

They start a fast and loose conveyor train of canisters - Thomas to Emily to Daud, until the area around them is filled with the things.

Thomas takes the last down the stairs himself, ushering Emily along. “Boss,” he says. “We netter move fast. The refinery is crawling with weepers, I could hear ‘em, even if they couldn’t reach me,” Thomas says in Daud’s ear.

Daud nods once. “Right. Thom, you start filling the canisters. Give them to me, Emily, head to the shoreline. I’ll bring the full ones to you.”

Thomas flashes Emily a grin. “Do try to remember they can explode, Princess,” he drawls.

“That was one time!” Emily hisses. “I was twelve!”

Daud remembers that; Emily had mistimed a jump, flailing into the bookshelf. She’d managed to knock over a large portion of the books, and one had fallen into the hole she was jumping over. It managed to smack into the stash off whale oil down there for light. It hadn’t  _ entirely _ been her fault, but none of the other pups had let her live it down for years.

“Chatter,” he warns them gently. “Lets go.”

With one last glare at Thomas, Emily jogs away toward the shore. As soon as she’s far enough away, Thomas leans in to start filling the first canister. “Boss, I’m worried about those rats,” he admits.

“Most swarms don’t reform once they’ve been scattered,” Daud says, trying to inject his voice with some confidence. Thomas’ face does something complicated before it settles on careful neutrality.

He hands Daud the first full canister. “... Yeah,” he says. “I… they better be alright.”

Daud can’t even formulate a response to that. He doesn’t want to think about it,  _ can’t  _ think about it - Rulfio has been with him since the twins were five, almost twenty years ago now. Billie had come first, then Thomas, then the Twins - they were as much a part of his family as Corvo and Emily were now. Losing one means losing both and that’s… not an outcome that bears thinking on.

They finish the job quickly - Thomas and Daud are ruthlessly efficient and they’d trained Emily well.

By the time Samuel returns, they have a line of oil canisters ready and waiting for him. Samuel though, looks wretched, his clothing covered in blood that absolutely hadn’t been present when he’d left.    
  


“What the fuck?” Daud asks, gesturing vaguely. 

“Master Pip… he hemorrhaged,” Samuel says so quietly that Daud thinks he misheard.

“Does he live?” Emily demands. 

Samuel reaches out and takes her shoulder, holding her tightly. “He lives,” Samuel promises. “He’s in bad shape, and no lie, but he survived the boat ride as did young master Rulfio.”

“Then we need to hurry,” Daud snaps.

He needs to get back to the Hound Pits,  _ immediately _ .

The boat ride takes ten minutes, and Daud leaves Thomas to deal with Havelock and the Oil. He storms into the workshop only to be brought up short by Sokolov who pushes him back outside the workshop with a firm hand in the center of his chest. “We have a problem,” Sokolov says with uncanny seriousness.

“What?” Daud asks, fear gathering in his chest. Everything aches, and he stares at Sokolov with no small measure of concern.

“There is only one vial of the Cure left,” Sokolov says.

“... What?” Daud repeats - he had to have heard that wrong.

Sokolov looks over his shoulder into the workshop. “We brought three cases of synthesized cure with us when we left. One case went to the children our second night here. The second case when to Corvo to take out into his streets. The third was in here, so we could use it as a base to begin more production. A servant came in to take the daily ration of normal elixir and he must have gotten the cases mixed up, and he took the Cure instead.”

“Can’t you just synthesize more?” Daud demanded. 

Scowling, Sokolov crosses his arms over his chest. “Do you think supplies grow on trees?” he asks acidly. “We made as much as we could, as was possible. Until we get to the Academy or my old lab in Dunwall Tower, we only have one vial of elixir left.”

Daud breathes out slowly. One vial - two victims. “You’re going to have to choose,” Sokolov says, leading him into the room.

“Who,” Daud forces out through numb lips. “Who is the most at risk for the plague?”

Sokolov glances obviously at Pip, where he sleeps on the bed, white banadages cover his throat and most of his face and chest. “Mr. Vega,” he says. “The rats got his throat, close to the jugular. If they were diseased, the plague will enter his bloodstream quickly and ravage his heart.”

Daud blanches. “And Rulfio?” he asks.

“Mr. Escobar was luckier. His wounds are deep but non-threatening or fatal,” Sokolov hads him the vial of Cure. “I’m sorry, old friend,” he says.

“Give it to Pip,” Rulfio rasps out, leaning up on his shoulders. “You heard him Boss, Pip’s more at risk, he’s just a kid. Give him the cure.” Though Rulfio’s face is heavily bandaged, he still manages a jaunty half grin. “I’ll be alright.”

With a heavy heart, daud gives the vial back to Sokolov. “Give it to Pip,” he says, meeting Rulfio’s unbandaged eye.

Despite Rulfio’s obvious relief, Daud can’t help but feel as though he’s saved Pip only to lose Rulfio. And if they lose Rulfio, Rinaldo will not be far behind.

No matter which way he looks at it, Daud has just signed someone’s death warrant.

*

Daud wakes up to the Outsider staring at him. Relief crashes through him so fast he gets light headed, and he sits up, realizing too late that he's not in Corvo's attic bedroom but on a bed in a broken building, spinning in slow circles in the poorly illuminated Void.   
  
He's not naked but the Outsider is, his too thin, too pale body making Daud seven kinds of uncomfortable. "Fucks sake," he grumbles. "You finally show yourself after months of shit and this is your choice?"   
  
He expects the Outsider to snap out a witty retort, but instead a flash of hurt rolls across too young features, followed quickly by fear.    
  
Daud has known the Outsider for thirty one years and he's never seen the deity look anything other than amused.    
  
"Do you know how worried Corvo is for you?" Daud demands.   
  
The Outsider's distress deepens and he sits up, hiding his body behind a telling hunch of shoulders and crossed arms. "Who is Corvo?" He whispers and flinches as though expecting a blow.

"What the fuck," Daud says because once the elation of finding him fades, then he can see the differences. This facsimile is close, but the eyes, the Outsider's eyes are all wrong.    
  
This is just a boy. 

He tugs off his jacket and wraps it around the Outsider's shoulders. "Alright," he says making an effort to gentle his tone. "I'm sorry. I thought you - you look like someone I've lost."   
  
The boy with the dark blue eyes and messy hair looks up at him through long lashes. "I'm good at that," he says. "I'm supposed to." He wraps the jacket around himself. "I haven't displeased you? Please don't tell the masters," the Outsider - no. He's not the Outsider. He's the boy who died to become the god that Daud has loved and hated in equal measure. "I'll do it better! W-whatever you want."   
  
Daud has seen this too many times in his life. He took Kita away from it, and poor Beatrici whose mind could not hold the horrors she'd endured as a slave. "I'm not displeased," Daud says slowly. "I won't tell your masters anything."   
  
The adoration that lights up the Out - the boy’s face is painful to gaze at, like looking into the sun. He climbs into Daud's lap, skinny arms wrapped around Daud's chest.

Daud let's him stay there but leaves his hands on the bed. "This is a dream, isn't it?" The boy nods. "Yours or mine?" He asks.  
  
The boy shrugs one shoulder, tightening his grip. "Yours now," He says. He pulls away a second after. "There's no escaping Leviathan."  
  
A dark rolling chuckle fills the void around them and the boy, the Outsider who was, his face crumples. **FOUND** **YOU** , the darkness, Leviathan says.

When Daud looks up into the darkness, the everything is swallowed. The boy is gone, the room and bed are gone. He's alone with a monster.

Daud is no fool. He knows what happens to someone who gazes into the Void without magic to guide their way. He slams his eyes closed, tilting his head to give the impression of staring into the middle distance.

**YOU ARE MORE INTELLIGENT THAN WE ANTICIPATED** , Leviathan says with a soul crushing voice.  **OPEN YOUR EYES.**

“I think I’ll pass,” Daud retorts.

Something thin and vaguely slimy passes through his hair like a terrible caress. He suppresses a shudder by the thinnest of margins.  **DAUD, KNIFE OF DUNWALL,** Leviathan names him, purring his title into the black.  **OPEN. YOUR. EYES.**

The urge to listen is so strong, Daud’s teeth ache when he clenches his jaw. “No,” he says harshly.

**WE COULD MAKE YOU,** it says.

“You could try.”

The same low, rolling laugh fills the Void.  **DO YOU NEED INCENTIVE, EMPRESS KILLER?** The laugh cuts out, to be replaced by familiar keening cries. He would recognize Corvo’s mindless, wordless begging anywhere.

Only he’s not begging Daud - this isn’t a snatch of memory, stolen from him. The Outsider’s name is broken up into needy syllables in the false hallucination, but Daud feels a hot flash of shame even so.

**YOU WERE A GOOD REPLACEMENT,** Leviathan taunts.  **LOOK AT ME, LITTLE PUPPET. LOOK AT ME AND HE WILL LOVE YOU.**

“Fuck off,” Daud snarls.

The Void roars, shaking Daud with a fierceness that makes his bones rattle.  **WILL** **_THIS_ ** **TEMPT YOU, LITTLE PUPPET?** Leviathan asks, and Corvo’s whining keens are suddenly coupled with unfamiliar gasping cries. The sounds stretch into eternity until the voice he can’t place cries out in false ecstasy, Corvo’s name cutting through the Void.

He’s never heard the Outsider really sound  _ human _ before.

**“** Fuck. Off,” Daud snarls again.

The chuckle comes back, raising all the hairs on the back of his neck.  **YOU ARE A STUBBORN ONE,** Leviathan says.  **WE’LL SEE YOU SOON, LITTLE PUPPET.**

Whatever had been holding him lets go.

Daud falls.

*


	13. 13. CORVO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I take it by your expression," he said, warm and fond, "that you've just had a run in with Leviathan."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always this is for Dani, and Estora, Lex, Sera, Sasha, Song, Aeniala, Taywen, carvedwhalebones, and everyone who has ever encouraged me, befriended me or simply yelled at me to get my ass writing. Your support means everything.
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/), for all your fandom needs. <3

Corvo closes his fingers around Daud's wrist. 

He knows he's in the Void - he often is, nowadays - but he hasn't expected Daud to fall into his lap.   
  
"I take it by your expression," he said, warm and fond, "that you've just had a run in with Leviathan."

Daud blinks at him, his expression pained before it closes. "Be gone, spirit," he mutters. "I have no time for your games."   
  
Corvo let's his wrist go, but doesn't move from his position. "Not a spirit," he points out.

"That's exactly the sort of thing a spirit would say," Daud points out immediately.    
  
"True," Corvo agrees.

Daud is eyeing him with so much suspicion that Corvo is beginning to think catching him - or at least, making himself known was a bad idea. Daud has a point, too, with spirits and the Void, and how things have been going lately, it could even be Daud that's the trick and the game. Except Daud's eyes are the same blue as they ever are, and there's no hint of malice or trickery in his customary scowl.   
  
Corvo sighs, looking down. "I suppose there's not much I can say, is there? This doesn't lend itself to belief, and how else could I be here?" He taps the back of his left hand. "After I left you last, I took Billie a bit to task over her curiosity about us, she had some... fanciful notions about my behavior. I woke up here in the Void, and Leviathan attacked me."   
  
"It... attacked you?" Daud repeats. "Are you hurt?" The question seems torn from him, like he doesn't want to ask it but can't help himself.   
  
"A little," Corvo admits. "Mostly bruising, some lacerations you can't see here in the Void. I lost a lot of blood." He grimaces. "In the efforts of full disclosure, Delilah ah... propositioned me, after the... Leviathan ordeal."

Daud recoils. "She what?" he snaps.    
  
"Mm," Corvo agrees with a grimace. "They took me to the Royal Physician - a woman now, no surprise there. Her name is Katya, and she's Tyvian like Anton. She was... kind enough. She left me in a bath, it was meant to help my bruising." He touches his ribs, outlining the marks he carried outside of the Void. "She left shortly after I awoke there, and Delilah came in. It was... unbearably awkward."   
  
"... What did you do?" Daud asks, sounding utterly, absolutely, horrifically defeated.   
  
Corvo eyes him narrowly. Daud has never been sure of their relationship, not in complete truth. But this doubt was never there before. He makes a study of his shrug, leaning back on his right hand to look at Daud square in the face. "I told her I prefered men, and had no interest at all in what she was offering.”

"You what?" Daud says, and finally, finally their eyes meet.   
  
Corvo smiles, keeps it slow and hesitant and warm. "I couldn't very well tell her I had a rugged assassin waiting for me at home, and oh by the way he wants to kill you, now could I?" he says, with gentle teasing. It's harder to focus the magic in the Void to get his eyes to light with silver fire, but he manages a quick flash. "Instead of her body, which frankly she could keep, she gave me this." He holds up his left hand, revealing the lined tattoo of a rose.    
  
Daud slides forward hesitantly, touching the back of his hand. "She Marked you."   
  
"She Marked me," Corvo agrees on a sigh. "Feels like the last and final betrayal in a long series of them."

"A betrayal," Daud repeats, and his tone goes flat again.

Corvo tips his head back. "Blighted Void," he groans. "I really don't know how else to convince you that I am me."   
  
"You could start by not sounding like you're in love with the Outsider," Daud snaps. There's a beat of silence before he flinches, and withdraws. "Never mind," he mutters.    
  
Though his first instinct is to laugh, and his second, third and fourth are to sigh in annoyance and once again, repeat that he is not nor ever has been in love with the Outsider, Corvo watches Daud's face and form, with eyes honed by years of being the Crow King. Daud is upset, that much is clear, and it isn't by the idea of Corvo being a spirit, memory or ghost. Something's happened.   
  
"Daud," Corvo says with infinite gentleness. " _ Amante _ ."

"You don't get to call me that," Daud snaps.   
  
Corvo raises an eyebrow. "I've only called you that once, and you seemed so shocked by it I stopped. I didn't want to push. I never want to push." He crosses his arms over his chest. "What did the Leviathan do, Daud?"   
  
"Nothing!" Daud pushes away from his position near Corvo, turning away. The slab of rock they're sitting on isn't big enough for Daud to go more than a few inches though and Corvo waits him out patiently. "... It played out some... memories for me."   
  
"Memories of you and I?" Corvo guesses and Daud shakes his head. "Memories of me?" he guesses again. There's a subtle tensing of Daud's shoulders and a dull flush on the back of his neck- ah. It's a sex thing.

"Something like that," Daud finally admits. "It reached into my head and made me hear you... when we're... together. Except." He cuts himself off, shoulders hunching. "Except you weren't speaking to me. You were speaking to the Outsider."   
  
Corvo wrinkles his nose. "I know that my ... friendship with the Outsider isn't conventional, considering his self proclaimed lack of favorites, but the Outsider has never shown an iota of interest in me beyond kinship." He slides forward on his knees, touching Daud's tense shoulder gently. "Nor have I ever desired anything but kinship with him."   
  
"It sounded so real," Daud whispers. "When I refused to open my eyes, to react, he made me - hear the Outsider calling for you instead."

"Ugh," Corvo says, with an involuntary noise of disgust. Daud's shoulder hitches under his palm and Daud turns to look at him. "What?" he asks when he sees the smirk threatening to tug up Daud's mouth.   
  
"You really are you, aren't you?" Daud asks, though it's not much of a question.   
  
Corvo nods, stroking his thumb over the ridge of muscle on Daud's chest. "It's me," he says. "Ever since Delilah gave me her Mark, I've woken up in the Void, and it seems there's some kind of latent protection in her Mark that keeps Leviathan from finding me." He looks down at his hand. "I know it's been less than a week since I saw you but Void, I miss you."

All of Daud's breath rushes out of him in a sigh. "I've missed you too," he admits. He sinks back against Corvo, all the tension running out of him. "I'm sorry, I didn't believe - the Leviathan was so real."   
  
Corvo kisses his temple. "I'm aware. I don't know that I'll manage this again," he says. "But if I do, I'll find you. I - " he cuts himself off with a half laugh. "I'll try to, anyway."   
  
He swallows back the declaration he really wants to make. The Void is no place for a confession of love.

Daud tilts his head into Corvo to see him better. "Delilah really propositioned you?" he asks.   
  
Groaning, he nods. "It was awful," he says. "I was naked, in a bathtub, covered in cuts and bruises, and she almost reached her hand into the water, and no. It was mortifying, because she's Jessamine's half sister, and what sort of deviant person would I have to be to even consider - no. No, just no."

Daud makes a considering noise. "She doesn't know you were Jessamine's... lover, once," he points out. "It probably seemed perfectly natural to her."    
  
"Please no," Corvo says. "I need to live there for the next however long."   
  
Laughing softly, Daud presses a kiss to Corvo's ear, then his cheek, moving down his jaw. "... Good?" he wonders, mouth still pressed to the hinge of Corvo's jaw.    
  
Corvo smiles - this, this is how he convinces Daud. "Still good," he agrees, and turns his head to meet Daud's lips.

Daud smiles, and kisses Corvo, pulling him closer, and twisting so their bodies are better aligned. The rock is cold and hard under Corvo but he doesn't care - Daud is warm and alive in his arms. They kiss languidly for long moments, the Void utterly silent around them. Corvo leans back against the ground, and Daud follows him down without hesitation.    
  
It's just kissing - they're barely touching each other other than hands and where Daud is long strip of heat against his side, but there's no urgency. It feels like... Corvo runs his fingers over the side of Daud's face, over the scar that defines his features, feathering his fingers through Daud's hair. In return, Daud cups the back of Corvo's neck, supporting him with a wide palm, before he draws his mouth away to press their foreheads together.   
  
"I... Made a call, today," Daud murmurs. "... Rulfio may die because of it."   
  
"What do you need from me?" Corvo asks instantly, a spike of worry spearing through his chest.    
  
Daud shakes his head but doesn't break any of the points of their contact. "Nothing. We've run out of Cure."

Corvo frowns because - that shouldn't have happened yet. That's a problem for later, though and he thinks for a minute. Nothing he's wearing or has on him can transfer to Daud, but... "I can make him a Bone Charm," he says. "To ward off the Plague."   
  
"He was attacked by a massive swarm of rats," Daud says dryly. "If he's going to get it, he's already got it."   
  
"Then I'll make him one that will stop him from losing his mind," Corvo says. "I'll buy me a night, I'll figure it out."   
  
Daud kisses him harshly, dragging him in close. "I - Thank you. If you can do anything... thank you."

“Hey,” Corvo says softly, wrapping his arms around Daud. “I’ll do whatever I can. You know that.” He kisses Daud’s forehead. “It’s almost dawn,” he says, though he’s not quite sure why he knows that. “I have to go. I’ll see what I can do about a bone charm for Rulfio. Give me a day.”

Daud nods, and he sits up, letting Corvo go. “Be careful,” he says. 

Corvo smiles, drinking in the sight of Daud with tousled hair. “I will be,” he promises. He ducks down and kisses Daud one last time. “Wake up,  _ amante. _ ”

It takes less time than Corvo is expecting: one moment Daud is there, the next, he’s gone, and Corvo let’s the safe place he’s carved out of the Void fade around him. He opens his eyes in his room at the Tower, blinking in the dim pre-dawn light. 

The room still makes him uneasy sometimes, being at the tower at all is worse; everything about it brings back too many memories. It’s too early in the morning for the other witches to stir - Delilah uses her gravehounds to patrol at night - so Corvo walks the halls alone.

Most of the Tower has been transformed almost beyond recognition. The paintings have been replaced by strange splashy colorful things that the other witches coo over as though they were great works of art. The rug has been ripped up by roots or plants, giving the entire hallway a natural carpet of moss and small flowers. 

Thankfully the walls have been more or less left alone, letting the wiring for the lamps be unmolested - Corvo doesn’t want to think about the fire hazard that would have turned into eventually. He avoids Emily’s old room, and moves down the hall past the library.

In the corner, the fireplace is empty, instead of a grate where logs were meant to go, there’s a lump of dirt and a softly glowing flower. Slowly, he reaches out and twists the lamp next to the wall. As it turns, the light goes out, and slowly, with a groan of old machinery, the wall behind the fireplace goes down.

Once the way is clear, Corvo hunkers down and moves into the small room, avoiding crushing the floor, just in case Delilah notices. There are no plants in the room, it smells damp, like the whole Tower does, but the room itself is virtually untouched. Corvo pulls the lever next to him, sealing himself in the room. 

In all the years since Delilah took over, she’d clearly never found this room.

There’s a dust covered audiograph on Jessamine’s desk, and Corvo blows on it to clear the gears. He hadn’t been in this room since before his leaving for the other countries, Jessamine must have left this message then. 

Holding his breath, Corvo presses the button to play the audio card.

The machine hisses a little, before it clicks, and begins to pull the card in. “Emily, my daughter,” Jessamine’s voice says clearly and Corvo’s throat closes. “I know that one day you’ll be grown up, and I wonder what you’ll remember of these years.” Pressure tightens Corvo’s chest and he stumbles back a step. “Will you recall your time as a child with fondness? Or were there too many caretakers, formal dinners and lessons about boring old history? Maybe the precious hours we spent together will shine brighter - time captured now and then with your mother and with Corvo, who was always close to my heart.”

“Fuck,” he swears with feeling, the sound torn from him.

“I hope the season of rats and plague will be nothing more than a passing shadow on your early memories. A crisis come and passed, weathered by your mother and her advisors. You’ll sit on the throne some day, and will do well, I hope. It’s a tricky life, full of responsibility, and peril. It was not your choice to be the daughter of an Empress, but I believe you’ll rise to the challenge. Stay good-hearted, Emily. Keep drawing and telling stories. And only share your power with those you truly trust.”

Chest heaving with suppressed sobs, Corvo reaches out with shaking fingers, and presses play again.

“Emily, my daughter….”

*

Delilah finds him in his workshop - which used to be the library, sadly - and drops a box that rattles ominously by his desk. “I brought you some things,” she says pleasantly.  Corvo raises an eyebrow, spinning in his chair to pull the box closer to him.

On closer inspection, he sees that it’s full nearly to the brim with bones, broken chunks that look as though someone had carefully broken them to be useful to him. He picked up a perfectly sized rib piece and a bolt of  _ wrong  _ makes his fingers twitch around it. 

Slowly, as Corvo picks up piece after piece, the feeling of intense uncomfortable wrongness grows. “I need you to make me a bone charm,” Delilah says. There’s something in her voice that sets Corvo’s teeth on edge, and he curls his fingers around a rib piece, placing it on his table. 

“What sort of charm?” he asks, hoping his tone remains even and unassuming.

“The sort that staves off the worst of the plague,” Delilah says. She taps the bone, a slight smile on her face. “It was very difficult getting this much bone for you,” she says. “Better make it a good one.”

There’s no mistaking the threat in her voice. Swallowing thickly, Corvo nods, reaching for his tools. “Of course, your Grace,” he says instantly. “I’ll work on it right away.”

“I expect it in four hours,” Delilah says, striding away.

“Four hour--” Corvo protests, turning toward her, but his workshop is empty. He’s never managed a full charm in anything less than eight hours at a push. 

Shaking his unease away, Corvo turns up the whale oil lamp and readies his tools. He’s going to have to push himself. He reaches for the Void, dodges it’s claws and it’s new and poisonous bite, and sinks into the Power that feels more hostile against him than ever.

Red light leaks through his focused vision, but Corvo focuses only on the runes he needs to carve. He’s been making plague preventatives for years, he knows each loop and whorl, and line by heart. 

Corvo digs deep into the bone, pulsing the Void straight into the center of it, letting the magic fill the marrow and holes inside it. Under his fingers the bone turns a dark, inky black, as he continues carving stark white lines through the heart of the piece.

The magic slices through him, and Corvo hisses when blood spatters the table. It glows faintly in the dimming light, like whale oil or magic. His finger stings where he cut it, but Corvo’s time is quickly running out. It’s hard for him to focus on the outside world when the magic is pouring out of him, time loses meaning, and physical ailments fade into the background. 

Voidlight pulses once, twice, and the runes carved into the bone bright slowly by degrees until they glow a sick, broken red. 

Blood slicks his hand and wrist as Corvo reaches for iron filings and pieces to cap off the broken edges of the charm. The iron fuses to it with little help from fire or clamps, though the charm grows so hot to the touch that Corvo drops it twice.

The basin of water on the table boils when he finally places the charm into it, and the water turns a solid black, as though soot or ink or oil had been introduced to it instead.

His fingers throb, and when he finally looks down at his left hand, he finds that he hasn’t cut himself after all - instead he has small bite marks dotting pads of his fingers. Under his magnifying glass, Corvo can see the individual teeth marks.

He doesn’t want to reach into the basin to find the charm so Corvo lifts the whole thing and dumps it slowly into the sink until the charm clatters into it, too dark against the stained porcelain. It steams gently, smoke curling up from the runes. 

Corvo takes out his own charm, black as soot and glowing faintly blue, and mourns the loss of a Void that welcomed him.

“Are you finished?” Delilah asks harshly.

“I am,” Corvo says, his voice a ruin. “Here.”  He picks up the charm and hands it to her. Delilah snatches it up, holding it up to the light. “I hope it meets your preferences,” he says.

Delilah smiles at him, an expression with far too many teeth. “Oh trust me, Crow, it does. Come.”

He follows her down the hall and into the front entry way. There are dead bodies there, left to rot - some are old enough to have rotted already. The whole place smells of the sickly sweet fragrance of decay. 

“Good, you’re all here,” Delilah says, striding into the room. She takes her place on the stairwell, Billie at her right, Corvo at her left. There are few witches closer to Delilah than they are, but the rest of the room is full of them. Most are standing in the front hall, some are sitting on the chandeliers above them.

The entire room goes silent when Delilah speaks. “Anthea,” she says, and a witch in the middle of the front hall takes a half step back. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Corvo can see Sabina pulling Aurelia out of the way, easing into the hall off to the side. Anthea looks terrified, as she steps up to Delilah, dropping to her knees with a painful sounding crack. “My Lady?” Anthea says, and the tremor in her voice is obvious.

“I’ve decided to reward you,” Delilah says, her tone so gentle that Anthea relaxes. “What happened was a misunderstanding, I see I was harsh with you. I’ve had our dear Crow make you a gift.”

Anthea looks up at Corvo with gratitude in her eyes and Corvo wishes with all his heart that he was wearing his mask. “Thank you, Crow,” Anthea says. “Thank you Delilah. I won’t disappoint you again.”

Delilah steps in close, pulling Anthea to her feet and tucking the bone charm into the front of Anthea’s shirt. “No,” Delilah says gently. “You won’t.”

The entire room stills, an almost preternatural silence falling over them. Then, Anthea coughs. It’s loud, shattering the quiet that had fallen. She coughs again, frowning in confusion, pressing a hand to her chest. Another cough wracks her thin frame, and blood sprays the stone at her feet.

She looks up, terror and betrayal chasing themselves across her face as she drags her gaze from Delilah to Corvo and back. 

Another coughing fit strikes her and she crumples to the floor. No one reaches out to help her. The witches in the hall back up, as she continues coughing, deep, wet, hacking things. “Help,” Anthea begs, through her tears. She sobs, choking out blood and saliva, and she stumbles toward Delilah. “My Lady, help me.”

Delilah takes a deep breath, the same eerie smile on her face. She screams once, the same pressurized shriek that Corvo recognizes from his own experimentations with powers. Anthea stumbles back, falling again, as more coughs and wheezes choke her.

When she stands up again, her tears have dried, and blood drips down her face. 

She’s not coughing anymore.

“Kill her,” Delilah says.

Anthea blinks once, red spilling from her once green eyes. She turns when the witch closest to her moves, and she leaps.

The weeper that was Anthea kills two witches before a third puts her down, an array of thorns in her throat. 

Delilah nods once, then disappears in a flurry of the Void.

Corvo stares down at the carnage below him, his chest tight. “What have I done?” he whispers. “ _ What have I done? _ ”

*


	14. 14. DAUD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I need your help,” Daud says._
> 
> _Gerome regards him for a second, blowing out smoke in the direction of the Wrenhaven. “Did that hurt?” he wonders and Daud growls._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, this is for all the people who have given me such support especially recently: Dani, Estora, Aeniala, Luci, taywen, lilfayt, all the people who have left comments, asks, art, and otherwise have made my fandom experience a joy. I love you all.
> 
> You can find me at [Tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/), for all your needs - I follow back and love conversation. :)

Rulfio is sick.

Sokolov’s given him something to stem his cough, but when Daud visits him in their makeshift infirmary, he can feel the heat pouring off him. His fever is high - too high, Piero’s expression says - and Daud, for the first time in a very long time, has no idea what to do.

Pip, his throat still an open wound, if stitched up neatly, watches Rulfio from his bed, guilt and concern tied up in his expressive face.

Daud steps into the building, checking Rulfio religiously, despite knowing that his fever is only growing higher. Pip is awake, sitting up on his bed, a book held open on his lap. He's too pale, his freckles standing out in sharp relief against his skin, and he's never looked so small or sad as he does at that moment.

“You chose me over him,” Pip says, voice cracking.

“No,” Daud denies immediately. “Rulfio chose you over him. He asked me to give you the Cure, and I listened to his wishes.” He sits on the edge of Pip's bed. “Rulf wouldn't want you to wallow,” he says, and the words taste like a betrayal.

Pip’s face flushes and he shoves Daud with little strength. “But it's my fault!” he says, eyes filling with tears. “If I hadn't gotten hurt, if I hadn't - If I w-w-was p-p-paying more at-t-tention, he wouldn't have had t-to save me!”

Daud places his hand on Pip’s shoulder. “Crispin,” he says, “it was not your fault. None of us are used to not having Powers. We all were too slow, we all made mistakes. But Rulfio made his choice twice over: once to save you from the rats, and again to save you from the Plague.”

“But he's dying,” Pip whispers. 

“There's still a chance it's a simple infection,” Daud says. “I'm taking Slackjaw, and Gerome to the Academy of Natural Philosophy in a few hours to gather more medicine. If it's an infection, then he'll live.”

Pip looks down at his hands. “If,” he repeats. His shoulders tighten under Daud's hand. “Rin hates me.”

“He does not,” Daud says instantly, more out of reflex. Rinaldo hasn't been himself since Rulfio got hurt; he's snapped and snarled at anyone who spoke to him, including Daud. 

But Pip just looks at him sadly. “Yes he does,” he murmurs. “And if he doesn't now, he will if Rulfio dies.”

Daud watches Rulfio shiver on the bed across the small room. “I'm going to do everything in my power to save him,” Daud promises Pip. “But I also need you to get well.”

Slowly, Pip nods. “I promise,” he says. 

Daud rises and goes to Sokolov’s messy workbench. There’s a healthy dose of sedative in a beaker, and Daud measures out a low dose, mixing it with the weak tea that Piero left in a kettle. “You need more rest,” Daud says, pressing the cup into Pip’s lax grip. 

Pip makes a face but sips at the cup without complaint. “Be careful, Boss,” he says. 

He summons up a smile from somewhere. “I will be, Pip. You just get better, and I’ll be back soon.”

As the sedative kicks in, Pip slumps to the side, and Daud pulls the wool blanket up to cover his shoulders. Once his breathing drops into a even register, Daud sits up and checks on Rulfio. Like Pip, he’s sleeping the sleep of the drugged, and his breathing is deep though it rattles in his chest. 

His wounds on his face are red, the centers slightly yellow - infection seems higher on the list for his alignments and Daud will take it and hope. “B’s?” he murmurs, turning his shoulder into Daud’s touch.

“No, you sleep, Rulf,” Daud murmurs. He brushes his hands across Rulfio’s shoulders. “I’m going to find you some medicine.”

“S’t’s the Pl’gue,” Rulfio says, his eyes open and glassy. “Too hot, B’s.”

“Hey,” Daud says, too soft to be his customary bark. “It’s infection. Your wounds are  _ infected _ .”

Rulfio blinks, and he  nods shallowly. “Infection,” he repeats. “Medicine?”

Daud brushes Rulfio’s hair - it’s damp with sweat and too long now - out of his eyes. “Get some sleep, Rulf.”

He stays sitting on the edge of Rulfio’s bed too until his breathing evens back out, before leaving the isolated shack on the corner of the Hound Pits yard and making his way over to where Burton stood smoking by the children’s tower. 

“I need your help,” Daud says. 

Gerome regards him for a second, blowing out smoke in the direction of the Wrenhaven. “Did that hurt?” he wonders and Daud growls. “A’right, a’right, what’s the fuckin’ thing you want of me?”

“Rulfio’s wounds are infected,” he grinds out. “We’re out of medicine, out of Cure, and he’s almost out of time. I need to get to the Academy of Natural Science, and raid their medicine stores.”

“Huh,” Burton says. “Wasn’t really expecting that, all told. You get my cousin in, and yeah, sure, I’ll fuckin’ go on your little raiding party.”

Daud nods once. “Fine.” He about faces, searching out Slackjaw. His first bet is the best one; looking inside the Pub proper. Slackjaw sits in a corner booth, a few of his meatfisted cronies around him. “Slackjaw,” he greets, stepping up to them. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Mm,” Slackjaw says, waving a hand at a free spot in the booth. “You ask, Slackjaw answers,” he says with a laconic half smile. 

He settles in the spot Slackjaw indicates. “I need your help,” Daud says plainly. “I need to break into the Academy of Natural Sciences. We’re criminally low on medicine, and it’s not just the plague that’s affecting us. I asked your cousin, Burton, and he’ll help. If you do.”

Slackjaw’s eyebrows raise slowly. “Ain’t nobody knows where the place is, Knife.”

Daud rolls his eyes. “Fifteen Oxblood Way,” he says. “Draper’s Ward.”

“Now how would you know a thing like that?” Slackjaw wonders openly. 

“Spent a season there,” Daud answers him. “You in or out?”

“Slackjaw’s in,” he says. 

Standing sharply, Daud gestures to the door. “Good. Let’s go.”

*

Getting to 15 Oxblood Way is easier said than done. The Wrenhaven is between them, Kaldwin’s Bridge is a ruin of jagged steel and stone. Gerome tosses his cigarette into the river. “Well, we can get across using Sam’s ol’ skiff,” he says. “But after that, there’s a fuckin’ hoard of Weepers an’ worse between us an’ the Ward.”

Daud shrugs one shoulder. “So we use the sewers, or the roofs. Pick one.”

His lip curling, Gerome shakes his head. “Yeah no, fuck that. We’re not takin’ the Void-damned sewers, have you completely lost your mind? Fuck.”

Slackjaw snorts, gesturing to the Wrenhaven. “So we take the Skiff straight to the Waterfront of the Ward. Slackjaw might not know the state of things regardin’ the other gangs, but I know Lizzy Stride ain’t in town no more.”

“... Liz Stride is the reason we even made it to Dunwall,” Daud says.

“Well. How ‘bout that,” Slackjaw drawls. “Well, if’n Lizzy Stride ain’t in charge of the Eels no more, that means if’n there’s a gang presence there, then the Hatters are the ones we need to deal with.”

Daud groans under his breath. “We can avoid the gangs,” he posits, but gets dual glares for his trouble. “Look, Rulfio is possibly running out of time. We either take the skiff and wing it, or we stand here planning for an hour. We’re taking the boat.”

Thankfully, Samuel is happy to offer up his services, despite going deep into gang territory, once Daud explains that it’s for Rulfio. The skiff makes little noise as it traverses the Wrenhaven, and the closer they get to Drapers Ward the more tense Slackjaw gets. 

“Mortimer ain’t the boss of the Hatters no more,” Slackjaw mutters around a cigarette. “Slackjaw doesn’t know who took over, but,” he shakes his head sharply, “But it ain’t good, hear?”

“Yeah, we fuckin’ hear,” Gerome says. 

Samuel drops them off by the old Fashion district, tucking the boat into an overhang. “If you three don’t mind,” he says, “I’m going to move back down river for the time being. When you’re ready for a pick up, you just use one of those flares that Mister Burton has. I’ll be there.”

“Wise move,” Slackjaw says, and hops from the skiff. “If you have to take off, don’t worry. Slackjaw still knows this city like the back of his hand. We’ll get back, come hell or - well, I guess hell’s already come.”

Samuel pulls a face, rubbing his forehead with one hand. “You know Miss Brooklaine would never forgive you if you didn’t come back,” he admonishes Slackjaw gently. Daud has the singular pleasure of watching the old thug blush. 

Burton jumps out of the skiff right after him, holding it steady for Daud. For what feels like the hundredth time, Daud readies himself for a transversal and… remembers. 

He sighs, heading over to the fire-escape stairs to one of the old apartment buildings, beginning to climb. The others fall in line without fuss, at least until they get to the roof. “Alright, which way now?” Slackjaw asks, raising one eyebrow, and lighting another cigarette. 

“North West,” Daud answers, aligning himself to the strange winding ways of Dunwall again. 

To their direct East, there’s a square, Daud knows - likely where all the light is coming from. He can hear whooping and hollering from that direction too; sounds like the Hatters (or whatever they are now) are out in style.

The roofs are close enough together that they can run along the tops of them without too much issue, occasionally climbing down to a water pipe and using that to span the buildings. Drapers Ward was once a mecca of fashion and industry and fancy rich things that Daud liked to steal, they’d shoved too much into it far too fast and the ensuing architecture was a bit of a mess. But it was an easily walked mess so Daud can be glad that the upper echelon of Dunwall was once more  interested in finery than in aesthetics.  

Oxblood Way comes up quickly, and both Gerome and Slackjaw stop, staring at House number 15. “Are… are you for fuckin’ real?” Burton blurts out, staring at the dilapidated stone and brick building. The windows are boarded up, the front door caved in, and the only real thing of note about the place is the perfectly shiny number 15 on the left wall.

Daud rolls his eyes. “Watch and learn,” he tells them, jogging over to the front entry way. Using his sword, he counts out fifteen bricks from the top of the left side of alcove. Once he reaches number fifteen, he presses.

With a loud thud, the front walk, a little more broken than it was the last time, lowers down, sliding away and revealing a stairwell going deeper into the earth.

“Are you for fuckin’ real?!” Burton yelps.

Smirking, Daud waves them forward. “Really, you think that when two-hundred thousand people don’t know where something is, it should be easily found? Dunwall isn’t that big, Burton. Down you get, don’t linger.”

The tunnel leading to the main doors of the Academy is just as long as dreary as Daud remembers, though he does spend a portion of the walk in constant amusement as Burton tries to touch random bricks in sets of what look like roughly fifteen, trying to see if more doors will open up.

They reach the doors, steel, embossed in copper, in record time, and Daud touches the panel. “Who goes?” an unfamiliar voice snaps from a speaker on the door.

Daud sighs. “After time adrift without wisdom, among tides of Light and to the course of erudition, I will return to where I began.”

Burton snorts. 

The speaker hisses gently before the door opens. “Welcome back,” the voice says, mostly a question. When Daud steps through into the bright light of the Academy, he finds himself blinking in surprise. Several people are in the foyer, only a few he recognizes.

“Lu,” he says to the man on the far left. “Wondered where you’d gone off to.”

Galvani takes an aborted step forward, but before getting too far, the person on his right blocks his path. “Daud, you swore never to return when you left,” William Trimble grumbled. “And yet, here you are, disgracing our doorstep yet again. Sokolov isn’t here, I’m sad to say, he’s probably dead.”

“I’m not looking for Sokolov,” Daud says. “I’m looking for help.”

“With what?” Galvani says.

“One of mine, he’s sick. He was injured, his wounds are infected. I can only give him so much of Sokolov’s elixir, it’s not bringing his fever down. I need sterile things, antibiotics, and antiseptic that isn’t homebrewed moonshine.”

Trimble raises both eyebrows. “You expected us to just hand it over for free?” he growls. “You played us once, Daud - I believe the phrase about fooling me twice applies quite nicely here.”

Burton, who had seemed content to let Daud talk suddenly moves. A knife, black and matte and clearly very sharp buries itself between Trimble’s shoes. It quivers slightly with the force it was flung. “It’s for a fuckin’ kid,” he snarls. 

“Kids are dying all over Dunwall,” Trimble says, only a slight hitch in his tone to betray his real feelings. “Galvani is… attempting to cure the plague.”

“Pfft,” Burton says, tossing another knife in obvious threat. “Sokolov and Joplin did that ages ago. Granted, there’s a murdering witch on the throne so we don’t have the fuckin’ supplies, do we? But you wanna hold up your shit here, that’s fine, that’s jus’ fine. Maybe we take what we came for then?” 

“Gerome,” Slackjaw warns quietly.

Daud clears his throat. “Trimble, you don’t have to like me, but you have to realize something: we  _ are  _ going to eliminate Delilah, and when we do, you do not want to be on the new Empress’ bad side when she takes the throne.”

“Ha!” Tremble barks. “What new Empress? Surely there can’t be other Kaldwin heirs just hanging about, one was quite enough!”

Daud shakes his head. “No. When I returned from Karnaca, I brought with me the  _ only  _ Kaldwin heir.”

Galvani frowns at him. “Daud, old friend, no offence, but. Princess Emily died five years ago, during the coup when Attano killed Empress Jessamine.”

Burton’s fingers tighten on his knife, but Daud snags his wrist before he can throw another projectile. “Attano didn’t kill Jessamine,” he said. “And Emily is alive.”

Trimble waves him off. “That’s absurd,” he says. “You cannot possibly know those things.”

Daud doesn’t want to tell them; he’s been open about his assassination of Jessamine with everyone else, but this - telling them that  _ he _ killed Jessamine is like signing Rulfio’s death warrant. He hesitates just long enough for Slackjaw to finally break his silence.

“Y’know,” Slackjaw drawls, taking his own knife and picking at one of his nails with it. “Slackjaw might be mis-remembering things, but he was sure that Nurse Trimble died with Mortimer Hat. Any relation of yours, Mister Trimble?”

Trimble pales, and his throat bobs obviously when he swallows. “How would you know a thing like that? The Academy doesn’t concern itself with outside matters.”

Slackjaw quirks a grin. “Well, Slackjaw made it his business to meet with all the gang leaders once, not that long ago. Surely you aren’t forgetting, hm? You took such good care of the Geezer, Nurse Trimble, you did indeed. Sad thing, when he died. Surprised to see you here, I am. Considerin’ your… less than honorable exploits.”

Daud’s eyebrows raise and he looks at Trimble with new eyes. “Give us the medicines and we’ll be on our way,” he says. 

Galvani breaks from the group. “You just stay there,” he says. “I’ll get you what you need.” Not even Trimble protests when Galvani disappears into one of the many rooms of the Academy, and Daud contents himself with staring down Trimble. 

Burton for his part, ambles forward to reclaim his knife, making a point to wipe off the stone dust that had accumulated on the blade. 

Slackjaw lights a cigarette, grinning around it when Trimble, and the two other Philosophers make noises of distress. 

Thankfully, they aren’t waiting long in the hostile and tense environment, and Galvani reappears with a bag full of things. “This is all we can spare,” he says. “And… if you’re right, and you do take down Empress Delilah - tell Piero and Anton to come here, we’ll help them with the rest of the Cure.” 

Daud nods once. “Thanks, Lu,” he says. “We’ll be in touch.”

Slackjaw and Burton are already on their way out the door, but neither of them speak until they’re out on street level again. “You could have killed them,” Burton notes. 

“Sure,” Daud agrees. “But I don’t kill anymore.”

Slackjaw glances at them both. “You two don’t seem to be understandin’ somethin’,” he says. “If Mortimer Hat died, and Trimble is there, then who in the seven Tyvian hells is leadin’ the Hatter Gang?”

“We are,” a voice says from an alley.

The entire street lights up with flames from Morley Cocktails, breaking against brick and stone. They’re surrounded in short order, and Daud tenses, ready for a fight. “Well now,” Slackjaw says brightly, completely at ease despite their suddenly unfortunate circumstances. “What a pleasant surprise this is. You see, my friends, I am Slackjaw, of the Bottle Street Gang, my associates, Burton, my lieutenant, and the old Knife of Dunwall.”

“You,” one of the voices says, and Daud stares.

Morgan and Custis Pendleton step out of the alley, twin scowls upon their faces. “You owe us an Empress,” one of them snarls. “You reneged on the deal!”

Daud is not equipped to deal with this. “You two sods were drunk,” he snaps. “Passed out in the lawn of the Cat. Didn't have anyone else to give her to, so I kept her. Fool thing ran off soon as she could, and the weepers got her.” Saying these words physically hurts him, but he forces them out in a low, dangerous growl.

Morgan's lip curls, and he takes an aggressive step forward. “You owe us, Knife!”

“Your employer paid me for the work I already did,” Daud drawls.

Slackjaw steps in front of him, blocking Morgan from his sight. “Now, now, we’re all friends here, no?” He says. “Is Lars still about, I do wonder? Slackjaw and Lars were once great friends, yes indeed. We're all on the same side, Lords Pendleton, Bottle Street and Hatters, back to their old tricks! Slackjaw has a business proposition for you.”

The twins look at each other for a second before Morgan nods. “Always willing to hear out an old friend,” he says. “Come.”

The Hatters corral them into the alley where they head towards the Mill. Slackjaw falls into step with Daud and murmurs. “I'm going to ask you to trust me, Daud. I'm a killer and a thief, but I ain't a snitch or a cheat.”

It's the absence of Slackjaw's customary drawl and stylistic speech that makes Daud pay attention to him. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “I can do that. I'll follow your lead.” 

Slackjaw nods. “Good.”

They don't speak again until they arrived at the old Textile Mill where the Hatters made their homes. The entire area was lit up like nothing Daud had ever seen, lights and oil lamps and candles everywhere. The Millenary Canal is full of bodies, floating and definitely dead, and Daud has to pull Gerome away from the edge as they catch sight of little bodies. 

The Pendletons lead them to an office, two desk shoved in side by side. “So,” Custis says. “What's this business proposition?”

Slackjaw saunters over to them, standing neatly in front of Daud and Gerome. “Slackjaw will be blunt,” he says. “The world is shit and getting shittier. The Knife behind me has been contracted to kill Empress Delilah. He's good at that sort of thing; and when she's dead, there'll be lack to fill, no? Parliament restored. Advisors to find. Profits… to be made.”

Custis’ eyes sharpen. “How can you promise something like that?” 

“Whoever takes her place is going to know who eliminated her. We'll have our choice of boons,” Slackjaw drawls.  

The twins look at each other. “Say we believe you,” Morgan says, leaning his hip on the desk. “What do you want from us now?”

Slackjaw grins. “Entertainment,” he says. “Everyone worth knowing is here now. My darling Prudence, precocious Jo. Give us safe passage and a few hours of fun, and you'll have the Regent’s ear.”

Morgan grins slowly. “Jo fucked off and became a witch,” he says. “But we have just the thing. He's a bit scrawny, but he's a dream between the sheet.”

Something in the way he says it sets Daud's teeth on edge.

They push open the door just behind them. “Have fun,” Morgan drawls. “If he doesn't play nice, just remind him where his rations come from.”

Custis presses his palms together and gives them a small bow. “If he's not your type, we have others who might be,” he adds. “Welcome to the Hatters, Slackjaw. Nice to have you back.”

To Daud's eyes, there's no one in the room. Then movement in the corner catches his gaze and he stops, mid motion. The boy is no older than Pip, too thin by far, filthy, and from what Daud can see, is covered in bruises.

He grabs Gerome's wrist, getting his attention. “Hey,” Daud says softly, moving around Slackjaw and kneeling down to the boy’s level. He drags Gerome a few steps before he notices the chains and manacles around both the kids ankles.

Gerome snarls. “What the  _ fuck.” _

The boy flinches backward.

Daud holds out his palms, showing the kid that he's unarmed. “Hello,” he says softly. “What's your name?”

The boy looks up at them, hazy, tear wet eyes too wide in his pale face. “Cedric,” he answers quietly. “But you can call me Pet.”

“I'm gonna fuckin’ kill ‘em,” Gerome says decisively. 

Slackjaw is the one to grab him this time. “Pick those locks first, Cuz,” he says first. “Kill after.”

Gerome stares down at the manacles and nods. “Yeah, alright.” He kneels down next to Daud. “Hey Munchkin,” he says, with an aching gentleness. “My name's Gerome, and I'm getting you out of here.”

“R-really?” Cedric breathes. “I can make it real good for you, I'll pay you back for this.” 

“Ain't necessary,” Gerome insists. “There won't be a place here when I'm through with it, and where we come from is safe. You can come with us, heal, eat. No one's gonna make you fuckin’ spread your legs for any of it.” The manacles click open and Cedric scrambles back, away from them. 

Slackjaw lets Gerome’s shoulder go. “You sure you want to take on all the Hatters?”

Gerome’s lip curls. “Don't gotta. Just gotta kill the Pendletwats.”

“Go with him,” Slackjaw requests. “I'll help the kid here find some clothing.”

Gerome is already leaving the room, two knives in his hand. Giving the boy one last long look, Daud nods and follows Burton. 

“You two,” Gerome said to the twins, “Have a lot of explaining to do.” 

The Pendletons stand, accurately reading the danger in Gerome’s tone and stance. “I take it out Pet doesn't appeal to you,” Morgan says.

Gerome lets his knife go.

It buries itself into Morgan's eye, and the twin drops like a stone. Despite himself, Daud is impressed. 

There's two beats of silence as Custis watches Morgan die. 

The howl of grief that Custis lets loose is inhuman. He leaps at Gerome, who wasn't expecting a physical attack, and Daud resigns himself to a real fight.

Gerome goes down and Daud hauls Custis away from him, kicking him back into the wall. Custis, his face streaked with tears, picks up a full decanter and flings it at Daud, though he misses by a few feet. “You  _ killed him _ !” Custis shrieks.

**“** And I'd fuckin’ do it again!” 

Gerome throws another knife, and Custis screams as it slices by his ear. “Don't play with your food, Gerome,” Daud growls.

Pulling out another knife from… somewhere… Gerome pulls his shoulder back, and let's it fly.

Custis blinks, looking comically surprised by the knife quivering in his throat.

There's a stifled sob behind him, and Daud turns to find Cedric standing with Slackjaw. “You killed them?”

Gerome turns, tucking his excess knives away and nods, his expression softening. “They were fuckin’ shitweasels,” he says. “World’s better off without ‘em.”

Cedric’s face crumples entirely and sobs twice, inhaling raggedly before he speaks again. “ _ Thank you _ ,” he whispers, his voice strangled and choked.

Daud exchanges a look with Slackjaw over the kid’s head, and Slackjaw nods. “We’ve gotta go, Munchkin,” he says, and gestures to the exit. “Someone’s goin’ t’notice what’s happened here sooner or later, and Slackjaw plans to be far away from here when that comes to pass.”

The kid nods, and though he shies away if any of them get too close, he doesn’t bolt, or make any noise, despite the tears still streaming down his face. 

Samuel picks them up seconds after Slackjaw shoots off the flare, and when Gerome murmurs to him, “Faster would be preferable,” he doesn’t ask any questions. 

Daud doesn’t really look foward to returning to the Hound Pits with few supplies and a crying boy, but judging Cedric’s age to be around Emily’s he decides that she’ll be the first person he’s introduced to. Sokolov would just frighten him, Havelock wouldn’t know comfort if it bit him in the ass, and Corvo isn’t there to smooth things over either. 

“Once we get to the Hound Pits,” Daud says, looking up at the star dotted sky rather than at Cedric. “I’ll have to introduce you to my daughter.”

“Your daughter?” Cedric repeats, sounding strangely incredulous. 

Daud nods, still looking at the sky. “Mm-hmm,” he agrees. “She’s not biologically mine, but I helped raise her. She’s a good kid, you’d like her.” 

There’s a long period of silence and Daud finally looks over at Cedric who is studying him intently. “And no one makes her… pay for her rations?” he asks. “No one’s going to put her in a dark hole in the ground with a chained weeper if she doesn’t do what they want?” His voice breaks, and Gerome swears darkly.

“They died too quick, Munchkin,” he says. 

Daud shakes his head, holding Cedric’s eyes. “No,” he says. “There are no weepers in the Hound Pits, and no one is going to make you do anything you don’t want to.”

The rest of the boat ride goes smoothly and quiet, up until they round the bend toward the Hound Pits. Daud can hear the shouting from the shore, and nerves kindle in his belly. Something is wrong, he can feel it in the way his lungs twist up.

When they finally get into the courtyard, he’s treated to chaos. Emily and Thomas are pinning Rinaldo down, his face twisted in rage and pain, as he screams and tries to push them away. Pip is close by, hiding behind Callista and her uncle, his face pale and just as tear streaked as Rinaldo.

“It’s your fault,” Rinaldo roars. “It’s  _ all your fault, Crispin! _ ” He fights like a mad thing, and Emily stumbles, but doesn’t let go of his arms, holding him down though her eyes are overbright. “It should have been you! Do you hear me?!”

Daud leaps out of the skiff, striding over to the mess. “What in the seven Tyvian hells is going on here?!” he demands.

Mayhew materializes at his elbow, her face somber. “Here,” she says quietly, handing him a crumpled note. 

Frowning, he flicks it open and reads with slowly encroaching horror.

_ Boss, _ __   
__   
_ I'm leaving. I woke up a few hours ago, and... Boss, I'm sick. There was blood on my face and it's not from my wounds. It was from my eyes - I can't stay here if I'm sick and we both know it. I didn't tell Rin, and by the time you get this you'll both be too late to stop me. Slackjaw said that they were herding weepers into Bottle Street Distillery, so I'm going to head that way. If S&J figure out how to synthesize a cure before Delilah is defeated then, that's where I'll be. Boss, I'm sorry. I didn't - I didn't mean to get sick. I thought, because of the Crow, we might. It doesn't matter. I have to go before Havelock catches me. _ __   
__   
_ Boss, don't let Rin do anything stupid. Don't let him die. Please. I'm doing this for him. _ __   
__   
_ And Boss? You were the best. I was always too old to get away with calling you dad, like Emily could. But you've gotta know, now especially, that you're a better father than we ever knew. I'm so glad you took us in. Thank you, for giving us a home. For taking care of us.  _ __   
__   
_ Daud -  _ Dad  _ \- it's been an honor. _ __   
__   
_ Always yours, _ _   
_ __ Rulfio Escobar

Daud lets the paper fall to the ground as his fingers go numb.

Rinaldo’s screams are animal in their grief as he slumps into Thomas and Emily, sobbing raggedly. “It should have been you, Pip,” he repeats brokenly. 

“Rin!” Pip begs, both hands covering his mouth.

“ _ It should have been you!” _

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry.


	15. 15. CORVO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Corvo is going to be sick._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, this is for all my beloveds: Dani, Estora, Luci, Aeniala, Taywen, and everyone else who has left comments, asks, and everything. <3 
> 
> I can be found on [tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/) for all your needs! I follow back and love conversation :D
> 
> We're really in the thick of it now. <3

His workshop is destroyed. 

Bones lay scattered across the floor, and the scent of alcohol is almost overpowering. The table lays on it’s side, glassware and oil lamps fanned around it in a semi circle. He sits in the middle of the wreckage, tirelessly carving red into bone, his fingers raw and bleeding with puncture wounds and scrapes. 

The red flares again, and Corvo throws it across the room, letting it bounce harmlessly to the floor. A small pile already sits there, more failed attempts at his once pristine work. There’s a knock at his door but Corvo ignores it, instead searching out another piece of bone and setting the tool to it. His eyes are blurred with exhaustion or tears, and his fingers slip, digging the carving tool into his thumb instead.

Bright blood blooms across his sore fingers, but he just adjusts his grip and tries again.

So intent on the bones is he that he doesn’t expect it when someone kicks it out of his hands. He looks up with a snarl, blinking in surprise when he sees Aurelia staring down at him, Sabina hovering over her left shoulder. 

“Stop, Crow, stop it,” Aurelia says, dropping to her knees and grabbing his hands. “They’re human bones, Crow!”

His entire body goes cold with shock. “They… They’re what?”

“Human bones,” Sabina repeats. “Delilah corrals weepers and harvests their bones. Now that you’ve proven you can make Corrupted bone charms as easily as Black ones, she’ll be unstoppable with her requests. Crow, you are in so much danger right now.”

“We all are, if she wants me to make charms out of human bones,” Corvo forces out through numb lips. “That girl, Anthea, why…?”

Sabina looks away. “She displeased Delilah. She… wasn’t happy here. Wanted to go back to the way things were before Delilah took over.” 

Nodding along, Aurelia adds, “She dared suggest that Delilah wasn’t fit to be an Empress.”

Corvo is going to be sick.

“Why does she want me to make her corrupted bone charms?” he finally asks, once he’s swallowed down the urge. 

Sabina shrugs, looking over her shoulder. “We don’t know. But it has something to do with the hole in the Void that she’s trying to open. It won’t…  _ stay _ open. It closes on it’s own, and when it  _ is  _ open… bad things come out.”

Corvo frowns, using Sabina’s offered arm to stand slowly. “Show me.”

“Stay here, Aurelia,” Sabina says quietly. “Blink away if you have to, but if we’re both found to be sneaking about with the Crow, Delilah’s going to ask questions.”

Though she looks disappointed, Aurelia nods. “I’ll… start cleaning up. Do you… should I get rid of the bones?”

Corvo wants desperately to say yes. Steadying his heart - and his stomach - he shakes his head. “No. Keep them,  _ separately _ , from my whale bones. Label the boxes if you must. I need to know which is which if she comes looking for more. And… thank you.”

Aurelia smiles, reaching out to give him a quick hug. “Least I can do,” she says. “You saved my life, let me help make yours easier.”

He holds her tightly for a second, welcoming the feeling of solid human contact under his arms. “Alright,” he says. “Show me.”

Sabina takes his hand and leads him from his room, bringing him down the main hall and toward the staircase. “Don't look at the main hall,” she cautions him. “It's… she didn't bother to clean up.”

Corvo flinches. “Thanks,” he murmurs. 

She leads him around the stair, toward the chapel. The doors are closed, with twitching vines covering the doors. “None of us will go in there,” Sabina says. “We all know better. But you… you might be able to fend it off.”

“Fend it off?” he repeats, alarmed. Sabina just gives him an uneasy smile and gestures at the doors. 

Slowly, he pushes the doors open, stepping through the vines. The chapel is full of plantlife and where the altar used to be is a large workspace full of dyes and bones and paintbrushes.

The wall in back has a large painting, nearly as wide as Corvo is tall, of the black stone steppes of the Void, a whale hanging in suspended animation in the background. In the foreground, a man with his back to the viewer, dark clothing, dark hair.

The brush strokes are wild and haphazard, but it is clearly a snapshot of the Void that was.

Corvo looks around the room, eyes catching on an etched and carved skull on a pedestal. He stares at it, eyes searching out the runes specific to bone charm carving and finding nothing but carnage. 

He turns back to the painting and startled half step back.

The man in the painting - ostensibly the Outsider - is facing him now, mouth open wide in a hungry smile. Corvo narrows his eyes and steps backward again. 

The man in the painting matches him step for step until Corvo reaches the door and the creature - for it isn't the Outsider - is taking up the entire frame.

He's not sticking around for another Altercation with Leviathan. 

The doors behind him are locked.

Leviathan’s fingers burst through the canvas in a splatter of paint. His knee follows soon after, until a black mass of shadows, magic and Void tumbles through. Corvo tenses, ready to dodge, but he's too late; Leviathan strikes.

Thick tendrils of Void and shadow wrap around him, dragging him close to the painting.  **AND SO YOU HAVE RETURNED TO ME** , Leviathan cackles, the sound echoing like hollow bells.

Corvo doesn't bother to deign that with a response. He struggles, which aggravates the bruises he still has from the last time he found Leviathan. 

**DON'T YOU MISS ME, MY CORVO?** Leviathan whispers.  **MY CORVO, MY CORVO?**

“You don't get to call me that!” Corvo snarls.

**YOU ARE MINE. YOU HAVE ALWAYS BEEN MINE,** Leviathan snarls right back.  **YOU LET ME INTO YOUR SOUL.**

Corvo Blinks out of its grasp, clinging to the chandelier above it. “What does that even mean?” he shouts.

Leviathan looks up, black shadow swirling around it as it grows to fill the room. It's many hundreds of eyes open to glare, too many mouths opening to speak in multiple voices.  **YOU OPENED YOURSELF TO ME,** Leviathan hisses.  **YOU KILLED TO STEP THROUGH INTO ME. MY LEASH KEPT YOU FROM FINDING ME, BUT MY CORVO, MY CORVO, YOU'RE** **_HOME._ **

Corvo panics. 

His magic boils through him in a silver flash, magic he's worked so hard to keep from Delilah's sight. It brightens his tattoos, filling the room with wind and feathers and salt.

“I will  _ never  _ be yours,” Corvo snarls.

Leviathan only laughs.  **SHE COMES TO US, TO BE OUR** **_LEASH_ ** **. BUT YOU… MY CORVO, YOU WILL BE OUR FIRST CHOICE.**

“What?!” Corvo barks. “What does that mean? Speak plainly, Leviathan!”

The rolling, insidious chuckle only grows louder. Leviathan's form mutates and sprouts far too many arms to be comforting, all reaching out with hungry grins for Corvo. 

The magic inside him reaches a boiling point. 

Teal Voidlight floods the room, pouring through his eyes, his tattoos, his Mark. 

Leviathan screams between hysterical laughter, as the Magic knocks it off it's feet. 

When the Voidlight fades, the shadows are gone, and only a whalebone statue of what almost looks like the Outsider remains.

Corvo Blinks down, and very calmly vomits in the corner.

*

“We took care of the statue,” Sabina tells him quietly, leaning her hip on his righted desk. “Look Crow…” she says. “All of us share her Mark, but none of us gained her power to turn people into statues.”

Corvo shakes his head. “That was no person.”

Sabina shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. The only thing you should be aware of is that you’ve taken more of Delilah’s powers than any of us have - that means if… if you’re going to kill her someday, you should be ready for the fallout.” 

That makes Corvo spin in his seat to stare at her. “What?” 

She looks away, her skin swirling and darkening with Void power before fading away. “Look, I’m not… stupid. You’re obviously… here to kill Delilah.”

Corvo swallows, eyeing Sabina’s posture. She’s got her shoulders hunched, her eyes darting side to side without meeting Corvo’s gaze. “What makes you say a thing like that?” he asks.

“Because you’re Corvo Attano.... Aren’t you?” 

He sighs. “I suppose denying it is a waste of breath?” he asks. 

Sabina nods, pulling out an oft folded bit of paper. She holds it gently in her hands, crinkled from being in her back pocket. “I found this our first week here,” she says. “I liked it, so I carried it with me. I never had what… I never had what’s in this picture.”

She hands it to him and he takes it slowly, unfolding the drawing. It’s an old one, signed by Emily, of him and Jessamine standing on the gazebo where she died. Emily herself is in the drawing as well, standing between them, both of them holding her hands. ‘Mommy’ is written over Jessamine’s head in childish lettering, and ‘Daddy’ written over the top of his. 

He remembers this drawing. 

“Yes,” he says finally, staring down at it. “I’m Corvo Attano.”

Folding the picture carefully along its creases, he hands it back. “It should be yours,” Sabina protests.

Corvo shakes his head. “No, you’ve kept it safe all these years. It belongs to you now.” He looks down at the picture between them. “I am here to kill Delilah. She’s made a mockery of my home, a mockery of my life with Jessamine. She killed the Outsider, a man that was my friend. You realize who you’ve signed your life away to, don’t you, Sabina?”

Reverent, she takes the picture back, hugging it to her chest. “I know. But it was the only way to save Aurelia. And that’s… that’s why I’m here right now.”

“What do you mean?” Corvo asks, tilting his head to one side. “What can I do for you and Aurelia that I haven’t already done?”

“I have patrol with her, but I’m going to… well I’m not going to make it. I’ll tell Delilah to send you instead, because you understand her hearing troubles as well as I do. Then, bring her to wherever it is that you can, and tell her to stay there. Get her out of here, Cro- Corvo. Please.”

Corvo blinks in surprise. “You realize I’ll have to return and claim that she’s dead. Or that she ran off on me. You might not see her again.”

Sabina nods, her expression fierce. “I don’t care. She shouldn’t suffer for my choices. I didn’t know what Delilah was when I went to her for help. Now… if I have to pay the price for that, fine. But Aurelia is an innocent.”

“Have you talked to Aurelia about this?” Corvo asks curiously.

“Yes,” Aurelia says, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. “I don’t like it but I agreed to it.” Her face crumbles a little, and her eyes go overbright with unshed tears. “I can’t fight, not really. These,” She shakes her head to make her bone charm earrings spin, “These help  _ so much _ , Corvo.  _ Thank you _ for giving me back even a little hearing. But I’m a… a liability in battle.” 

Sabina pulls her into her arms, and the sisters hold each other for a long second. Corvo nods slowly. “Fine. Get your things ready for patrol,  _ cara _ . Sabina, tell Delilah I’m going with Aurelia for patrol, I’ll meet you in the front hall.” 

He breaks from them, slipping out of his workshop to give them time to say goodbye to each other. The front hall is a mess, blood everywhere, and he carefully Blinks over the worst of the carnage to stand by the double doors. “Crow,” someone says, and he turns, seeing Billie crouched on top of a half tipped over shelf. 

“Billie,” he responds after half a beat. “Why are you sitting up there?”

“It’s quiet,” she answers. “Everyone is avoiding here after what happened to Anthea.” 

He tips his head toward the mess. “I don’t blame them.”

She looks nervous but says, “And… you… are you alright?”

“I’ve… been better,” he answers. He pointedly doesn’t look over at the main hall. “We’re coming down to the wire, Billie,” he says quietly. “Sabina just asked me to get Aurelia out of here. You’re going to have to make a choice; are you in… or are you out?”

Billie’s lips press together tightly and she nods once. “I’m in,” she says. 

“Good. I’ll be at the Hound Pits late tonight. If you can spare yourself, we’ll begin to plan.” 

“... I’ll try to be there,” she murmurs. “Good luck out there.”

*

Aurelia is disturbingly quiet as they Blink from tree to tree to building. “It’s alright, you know,” he says, when they pause for a break on a roof overlooking John Clavering Boulevard. 

Her mouth turns down more, and she shakes her head. “When you attack Delilah, will you kill Sabina?”

Corvo tilts his head, catching Aurelia’s eyes. Her dark skin is pale and ashen, and she looks like she’s on the edge of tears. “I’m not going to kill Sabina,” he says finally. “I doubt that Sabina would get in the way of my friends either. Your sister is a smart girl,  _ cara _ . She’ll make herself scarce.” 

“I know. I just… I hate that she does this. I’m  _ broken _ so she’s sent me off to hide with your allies, like I can’t hold my own in a fight.” Aurelia looks away. “Never mind, you didn’t hear that. I didn’t say that. It’s fine.”

Raising both eyebrows incredulously, Corvo says immediately, “Have I ever told you about my friend Pip?” He waits her out, and eventually, slowly, Aurelia turns and looks at him, shaking her head in answer. “Pip’s a bit younger than you, but he had a stutter. Didn’t talk much, if at all, because he was embarrassed or afraid. I helped him, best I could, made him a bone charm to wear. He still stammers sometimes, but only when he’s talking quickly, or if he’s nervous.” He meets her gaze, keeping his face serious. “You’re not broken because you can’t hear,  _ cara _ . And Sabina isn’t doing this to punish you.”

“It  _ feels _ like a punishment,” she says. 

Corvo takes both her hands, squeezing them gently. “Sabina told me that she didn’t mean for you to fall into this life, that she did it heal you. This is going to end badly for a lot of people, Aurelia, and you don’t deserve the fate that being connected to Delilah will give you.”

Her lips purse in annoyance. “Neither does Sabina.” 

“No, she doesn’t.” Corvo lets her hands go, taking a step back. “I’ll keep an eye on her during the battle. I’ll make sure she stays safe.” 

That makes her smile, finally and she turns back to their patrol route. “Thank you, Crow. I’m sorry I… dumped all that on you. I don’t us--” She cuts off, frowning. “There’s something down there.”

Corvo moves to the edge of the roof, narrowing his eyes and gazing down at the street. This is the area he’s most worried about patrolling, as the Bottle Street Gang herds the weepers into their old base, and the last thing he wants is to run into Gerome or Slackjaw while trying to keep his cover. 

After a few seconds, he sees movement, a vaguely male shaped person crawling on all fours toward the Distillery, collapsing in front of the old alley across from their lookout. “If it’s not a weeper yet, it will be,” Aurelia says slowly. “Should we… go down there?”

Corvo nods and Blinks, landing just in front of the man. He’s covered in bandages, wrapped around his face and hands though they’re filthy and torn. His clothing is covered in sewage, damp up to the knees. 

When Corvo reaches out and touches him, he’s burning to the touch. “I’m sick,” the man coughs out, face still buried in his arms and facing the ground. He coughs violently for a second. “Don’t touch me, I’m sick.”

He doesn’t want to say he’s immune, though he is, so Corvo just says softly, “I’m going to roll you over, alright? You won’t get me sick, it’s fine.”

With Aurelia’s help he pushes the man over onto his back, checking him for wounds. Aurelia gasps, Blinking several feet back. “His face, Crow!”

“C… Crow?” the man says, and Corvo looks up at him.

“Rulfio,” he breathes. 

Rulfio grins, though it breaks one of the cuts on his face, sending more blood across his too pale skin. His eyes are red and bleeding profusely. “Should have known you’d find me, Crow King,” he murmurs, laughing softly. It ends on a haggard cough though and Corvo surges forward. He lifts Rulfio up, leaning him against the wall, but when he goes to pull away, Rulfio clings to him.

“I left him behind,” Rulfio whispers. “I wrote Dad a note, and I snuck out. Rin doesn’t know,” he says, and tears join the blood on his face. “ _ Rin doesn’t know _ .”

Corvo hushes him, holding him close and running a hand up and down Rulfio’s too prominent spine. “I’ll tell him, Rulf. I’m heading there soon, I’ll tell him.”

“Rin’s going to  _ hate him _ ,” Rulfio says, nonsensically. “I didn’t - I didn’t take the Cure, and I could’ve, but it’s  _ Pip,  _ Crow.” 

He tightens his grip on Rulfio, unconsciously rocking his weak body back and forth. “I’ll make sure he knows,” he promises.

Red spills over Rulfio’s cheeks when he sobs, curling into Corvo’s chest. “I’m going to die,” he whispers, hollow. “It’s only a matter of when. Crow please.  _ Help me. _ ”

Corvo leans back, turning to where Aurelia hovers, looking anxious and concerned. “Your blade please,” he requests, holding out his hand.

She unsheathes her blade, placing it in his hand, her face crumpling as she does so. Rulfio looks up at him, blood still crusting his face, cheeks flushed and his eyes so very relieved. “Thank you Crow,  _ thank you _ ,” he murmurs with aching gentleness. “You won’t let me suffer.” 

And then, he tilts his throat, bearing it to Corvo with absolute trust.

Corvo’s heart stops. 

He covers Rulfio’s throat with his hand, holding gently but firmly, uncaring of the blood getting on his skin. “Rulf,” he says sharply. “Rulfio Escobar, you look at me.”

Rulfio opens his eyes and Corvo takes Aurelia’s blade, slicing open the inside of his jacket without letting go of Rulfio. He pulls out a large bone charm, soot black and glowing with teal Voidlight. “Crow?” Rulfio whispers.

“This is  _ my _ bone charm to ward off the Plague,” Corvo says, folding it into Rulfio’s grip. “It won’t cure you, but it will stop the progression of your sickness. You won’t become a weeper, Rulf.”

Rulfio clutches the charm, head bowed over it as his shoulders shake with sobs. “You can get sick now,” he protests through his tears. “Crow, I can’t take this.” He tries to shove it back but Corvo catches his hands, pressing them to Rulfio’s chest.

“You can and you will,” Corvo says fiercely. “Shut up and take it, Rulf. I won’t take no for an answer.”

“But what about you?” Rulfio whispers. “Daud will never forgive me if you get sick.”

Corvo sighs, pulling off the glove on his left hand. “I’m safe enough for now,” he says, tilting his wrist so Rulfio can see Delilah’s Mark. Rulfio’s eyes, already less red for holding the charm get very wide. “You’re more important to me,  _ caro _ ,” he says. “You were trying to get to the Distillery, right?”

Rulfio nods. “I know that… Slackjaw’s boys keep the weepers there, feed ‘em, get ‘em close together for when they’ve a cure.”

“Alright. You keep that charm, Rulf.” Corvo stands, knees protesting. “I’ll help you get the rest of the way there.” Together, with Aurelia hovering behind them awkwardly, Corvo and Rulfio lurch their way down the street toward the Bottle Street Alley.

It takes too long, and Corvo is aware of the passage of time but the feeling of Rulfio clinging to him overpowers his anxiety over the coming days. “Rulf,” he says, once they reach the locked door. “I’m going to have to Blink over there with you. You’ll be trapped.”

Rulfio swallows hard. “I know. I - I know. It’s the first time without my brother, I don’t… Crow, you’ll tell him?”

“I’ll tell him whatever you want me to,” he says. 

Rulfio nods. “Tell him it wasn’t Pip’s fault, and that I love him, and… I’ll see him soon.” He moves into Corvo’s embrace, clutching him tightly. “I’m ready.”

Corvo glances at Aurelia. “I’ll be right back,” he tells her and she nods. 

Gathering Rulfio close to him, Corvo takes a deep breath, and Blinks.

*tbc


	16. 16. DAUD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"You're Emily Kaldwin."_
> 
>  
> 
> _“I am, yes,” Emily answers without missing a beat. “The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, this is for my favorite people: Dani, Lex, Estora, Luci, Aeniala, Sasha and Sera. I love you all!
> 
> Coming around the home stretch now folks. I've nearly finished this story and I'm about to start in on the third. Thank you all so much for your support, your willingness to go along with my cliffhangers, and I promise - the angst will be over soon. <3 I love you all.
> 
> A Warning: there is some talk of abuse between Cedric and Emily, wherein Cedric recounts the sins of the Pendletwin Brothers. 
> 
> I can be found on [Tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/) for all your needs. I follow back and love conversation :)

Daud moves Rinaldo’s sleeping form off his lap and tucks him into the bed. “Finally asleep?” Emily asks, her voice cracked and broken with exhaustion. 

“Mm,” Daud agrees. “What about yours?”

Emily runs her fingers through Cedric’s still damp hair where he lays at her side. “More or less,” she answers. Daud moves over to the side of the small room to press a kiss to the top of Emily’s head. “Daud… I’m… I’m going to have to become Empress, aren’t I?” 

Resting his hand on her head, Daud sighs. “Yeah,” he answers. “You probably are.”

“I don’t think I’ll be very good at it,” Emily says doubtfully. “I never… never paid attention to my tutors.”

Daud laughs softly, smoothing her hair back from her forehead. “You’ll have Corvo and me, and everyone else here. You’ll be alright.” He pulls back, stretching out his sore back. “Keep an eye on Rin for me?” he asks. “I should go check in with the others about what happened.”

Emily nods. “Sure,” she says. “I’ll be here.”

He closes the door behind him, but pauses when he hears Emily startle in surprise. “... You’re Emily Kaldwin,” the still unfamiliar voice of Cedric says. 

“I am, yes,” Emily answers without missing a beat. “The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”

Cedric snorts and it’s more emotion than Daud has heard him offer since arriving at the Hound Pits a few days ago. “And that man… Daud… Is he really your father?”

“In spirit,” Emily responds. “My actual father, Corvo Attano, he’s… not here right now. Daud helped raise me though, and I look to him as a second parent.”

A warmth kindles in his chest only to be snuffed out a second later by Cedric’s next words. “So he doesn’t let anyone fu-- touch you… if you do something wrong?”

There’s a beat of silence and Emily says slowly, “Cedric, I’m going to tell you what he told me, because someday there may come a time where someone male, or female, makes your heart jump. You’ll think on them daily.. If they return your regard, then you will learn and explore together.” Cedric laughed bitterly. “But,” Emily says, talking over his derision, “There may be someone who thinks on you, and you don’t think on them. Cedric, while you’re here with us, you’re one of us, so if there is ever a person who you feel threatened by, you must come to me immediately.” Cedric’s bitter laughter trails off almost instantly, and Emily adds. “No one here will take from you what isn’t on offer.”

“Even if I like men?” Cedric asks, his voice a whipcrack and a challenge.

Emily must smile because her voice turns fond. “My father, Corvo, and Daud have been together for ages now. They think on each other, and only on each other. I don’t know if it’s love, but I promise you, if you prefer the company of men, no one of ours will slight you.”

Cedric is silent for a long moment. “That’s…” he chokes out, “That’s hard to believe.”

“Sometime soon, Corvo will come back from the Tower,” Emily says. “You’ll see what I mean.”

He leaves them there, letting Cedric spill to Emily his ordeal with the Pendleton twins or not, at his leisure. He finds the rest of the others in the main floor of the Pub, with Treavor drunker than anything and snoring in a corner booth while the rest stare at him with varying degrees of pity. 

“He  _ was _ told, right?” Daud wonders out loud, and Slackjaw nods. “Then what’s the plan?” he asks.

“Slackjaw sent some boys over to the Drapers Ward, they’ll hold the peace for me. Hatters absorbed the Eels when Stride fucked off to Serkonos, but the Bottle Street Boys have always been mine. Ol’ Slackjaw will take care of the rest, don’t you worry.”

Daud rolls his eyes. “I’m not worried. The Hatters, Eels and Bottle Street are all formidable fighters. If they’re willing to join us in a fight against Delilah, then they should come here, or the area near here. We’re going to need all the help we can get.”

“Our Overseer friends - Clemente and Darnell, you remember them? - they’ve been asking questions, such as when we’re going to be able to get word to Whitecliff,” Havelock said, with a vague gesture toward where the Overseers had been given a place to stay.

As if on cue, there’s a knock at the door. “We saw that you were meeting,” Clemente says as he pushes open the front door. “It seemed prudent to join you.” He bows slightly when everyone turns to look at him. “I hope we’re not intruding.”

Havelock clears his throat. “No, not at all.”

Clemente walks in, escorting his comrade, who keeps the mask on while Clemente does not. “You never did tell us how you would know to attack the witch,” he says, leaning his hands on the table. “Clearly you have some kind of inside informer, and that sort of information will be useful to have.”

Mayhew and Havelock look to him, and Daud sighs. “We do,” he admits. “They’ve managed to keep us more or less updated on Delilah’s movements, though it’s understandably dangerous,” he adds. “I’m sure you’ll understand if we don’t name them.”

There’s a beat of silence where Clemente looks comically surprised before his face softens into a smile. “I don’t think there are enough of us now to really threaten you,” he says, but he tips his head in acknowledgement of Daud’s point. 

“And when this is over? What then?” Daud wonders, not quite idly. “Once Delilah is gone there will be no reason to keep our informants - you could easily take them away for heresy or witchcraft.”

“Yes, we could,” Clemente says bluntly. “But for now, let us say that some of the witches escaped. Until we cross paths with them again, they are a problem for another day.” He raises an eyebrow at Daud. “Is that good enough?”

“For now,” Daud sighs, and waves them closer. 

They spend several hours pouring over the maps of Dunwall that Geoff Curnow had produced. There were several ways into the Tower that were only accessible with magic, and Daud points them out. Geoff and Havelock remember most of the sneakier ways into the Tower, from working there, and Samuel is able to point out where the blind spots are near the waterlock.

“This information is all well and good,” Havelock says, once they’ve marked up the map. “But this doesn’t tell us where we should attack from.”

“If the Eels were absorbed by the Hatters, their boats will be free,” Slackjaw comments. “We can attack from the water, or at least get close enough to the waterlock to climb it.”

“We can go through the Tower District for a frontal assault,” Clemente says. “That should suitably distract them, from an attack from the side.”

Daud points to a roof on their map of Dunwall. “Here,” he says. “It’s hard to get to, but if we climb the roofs and move along the tops, we can get straight to the outside courtyard of the Tower.” 

Curnow eyes it, frowning. “That would put you near the gazebo,” he says. “It’s a solid idea, but hard to maintain stealth.”

“If the Overseers attack from the front, the gangs attack from the water, they’re hardly going to notice a small team geared for stealth coming from above,” Daud argues.

Curnow makes a sharp gesture. “That may be true,” he says. “But we both know the only way you’d know that is if you were part of the team that killed the Empress.”

The room goes very silent.

“I kept my tongue when Corvo was here,” Curnow says, low and soft and dangerous. “But I recognize your name, I saw Campbell’s black book of contacts and illicit information. Burrows hired you,  _ Knife of Dunwall _ , to kill Empress Jessamine Kaldwin. You caused this, all of this!”

Daud growls, pushing away from the table. “I didn’t create Delilah,” he says, annoyed. “I had nothing to do with her - I was gone from this place before she’d taken over.”

“No, you didn’t create Delilah,” Curnow agrees. “But you gave her a hole to step into when you kidnapped Emily!”

Barking a harsh laugh, Daud shakes his head. “Hardly! Delilah doesn’t strike me as someone who would care who was sitting on a throne she wanted. Jessamine might have already been gone, but I doubt anyone who was in her seat would have fared any better than Burrows did when Delilah arrived,” he says. “Emily would have been killed just as quickly.”

Curnow laughs bitterly. “No, you only killed the girls mothers and then  _ raised her as your own _ .”

Daud takes a threatening step forward. “I did what I was paid to do,” he says. “And once it was through, I did the only thing I could do at the time - Emily and I have made our peace.”

“Peace!” Curnow shouts. “What does a man like you know of peace?”

“Not a whole lot,” Daud says, making a concentrated effort to lower his voice. “But I know that I gave her the best chance she’s got now.”

“Enough,” Emily snaps from the door. He’d been so absorbed in defending himself, he hadn’t even heard her open the door and step in. She’s tiny compared to the large door frame she stands in, back lit by the setting sun. “I should have a chance to speak my mind, should I not? Since it’s my life you’re so vigorously defending, Captain Curnow.” 

Curnow has the grace to look a little sheepish. “Of course, Miss Emily,” he says.

“Good,” she bites out. “Thanks ever so. I know what Daud did - unlike you, who ought to have been, I was actually there. I remember every Void-damned second of that day, I remember that Daud was ordered to turn me over to The Pendleton brothers, Morgan and Custis. Considering the more recent altercation everyone had with them, I think that we should all be more grateful that Daud chose the other path.” Her eyes narrow dangerously when Curnow opens his mouth to speak. “I’ve forgiven Daud,” she says frankly. “He took me in, instead of leaving a ten year old girl in a  _ brothel _ , and he taught me how to protect myself.”

“Miss Emily,” Curnow tries to say, but Emily holds up a hand for silence.

“If we survive this, if  _ I _ survive this, Daud will become my Spymaster. If you are set on restoring me to my throne, then as Empress you should know that I forgive him for his crimes. He has suffered enough for them.” Emily raises her chin and stares the room down, meeting everyone’s eyes and glaring. “My decision is final, and this discussion is over.”

She steps past Daud, brushing against his side in a move that feels deliberate. “What have we decided then?” Emily asks, leaning against the table.

“You can’t imagine we’ll let you fight,” Havelock says instantly.

As one unit, Slackjaw, Burton and Daud wince.

“And why not?” Emily asks, an annoyed lilt to her tone. “I’ve gone on other missions.”

Havelock leans across the table and takes both of Emily’s hands in his; Daud bristles at the familiar touch. “Miss Emily,” he says kindly, “You are the Empress. And you have an army - however small and ragtag we are, we are yours to command. But you are also our reason for fighting.” He smiles, tentative, hesitant. “Let us fight for you, and you can take your place at the head, once we’ve toppled Delilah’s empire.”

Emily stares at him for long seconds. “Fine,” she says, pulling her hands away. “I’ll stay back, but I’m not staying here.”

“No one would expect you to, little Miss,” Slackjaw says. “Fact, bettin’ ol’ Slackjaw could get you a place on Miss Liz’s ship. You’d be safe as houses on board with her, and close enough to the action to know when we win.”

“Acceptable,” Emily decides though Havelock looks irritated with it.

Alexi leans against the table with her. “Good. Slackjaw, you get those gangs under some semblance of order. Burton, I need you to shore up the defenses here, Callista isn’t a fighter and she’ll be here with the children.”

Burton nods once. “Got some ideas,” he says around a cigarette. 

“Overseer Clemente,” Alexi says, transferring her gaze, “You get those messages to your brothers, and tell them the plan.” She looks over at Daud. “Pick your stealth team.”

“Already have it in mind,” Daud says. 

There’s a pause where everyone looks down at the map, and the realization that everything will be over soon settles into Daud’s spine. “Might I ask a question?” Clemente says, his dark, kind eyes fixed on where Daud and Emily stand. 

“Depends on the question,” Emily answers.

“Your ‘informant’,” Clemente says with such heavy inflection that Daud’s fingers tighten into fists. “Is he your father?”

Emily pauses, frowning. “Yes,” Pendleton slurs from his slumped over position in the corner. He stumbles out of the booth, weaving as he walks. “Corvo Attano,” he says, anger and bitterness splashed over his face. “Witch, and heretic!”  

When she spins to face him, utter betrayal splashed over her face, Havelock steps in. “Now, Treavor,” he says in a surprisingly gentle tone. “You’re drunk, and grieving. Don’t say anything that you can’t later take back.”

Clemente doesn’t look away from Daud. “Your honesty is appreciated,” he says, “Like I said before… It’s a shame, that some of the witches escaped. Take from that what you will.” He bows again, and leaves, striding across the courtyard.

His companion stays for a beat. “He won’t turn your father in,” Overseer Darnell says, his voice surprisingly light and gentle. “We’re both good at keeping secrets.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t take you at your word,” Emily says flatly.

Darnell echoes Clemente’s bow. “Of course, Empress. Time will reveal intentions all around,” he says. “As it always does.”

Emily glances at Daud. “Thank you,” she says, just loud enough for everyone to hear. “After what Cedric has told me of the horrors the Pendleton twins inflicted upon his person, I’m doubly glad for your intervention, six years ago.”

Daud quirks a smile. “Sure, Princess,” he says. 

Emily rolls her eyes. “Empress soon enough,” she murmurs. She waves him off when he gets closer to her, and steps up toward Alexi in a clear dismissal.

He lets her be.

*

Of course, as soon as the two Overseers send off their messages with the Black Market dealer’s runner, that’s when everything goes to hell.

There’s a sound of displaced air, and Daud turns, his heart rate kicking up. “Corvo?” he calls.

Instead of Corvo, a woman stands there, dark skinned, with glowing bone charm earrings. “Witch!” shrieks Overseer Darnell, leaping backward and drawing a blade.

The woman stumbles backward, and she holds up her hands in the universal gesture of surrender. A moment later, Corvo appears just in front of her, looking exhausted. “I’m sorry Aurelia,” he says familiarly. “It’s been along time since I overstrained so badly.”

Aurelia - that must be the witch - points over his shoulder and he turns. “Um,” she says quietly. 

“Daud,” Corvo says, stepping closer. His eyes skip from Daud’s face to the Overseers standing on the shore. “... Oh.”

“You must be their inside informant,” Clemente says dryly.

Corvo looks down at himself, then up at them. “You could say that,” he says.

Daud makes a vague gesture as Mayhew, Havelock, Burton, Slackjaw and several of the thugs and other adults pour into the courtyard. “Explain?”

“Whoa, no, hey,” Corvo says, stepping in front of the witch in a clear protective gesture. “It’s alright - there’s no need for any violence.” He clears his throat, looking over at Alexi and Daud. “This is Aurelia,” he says in a low, soothing voice. “She’s been stuck with Delilah’s ilk for too long, and is asking for sanctuary.”

“I can help,” Aurelia says quietly, slurring her words a little. 

“She’s lived in the Tower for the last five years,” Corvo says. “She’s a witch, so she can help you move about, and is good cover if need be.” He meets Daud’s eyes, his expression earnest. “I promised her I’d help her escape.”

Emily steps out from inside the Hound Pits, launching herself at Corvo. He catches her with a quiet oath, but holds her close despite whatever pain he might still be in. “Daddy,” Emily whispers, just loud enough for both Aurelia and Daud to hear her. 

Aurelia startles a little, but she doesn’t move from Corvo’s side. “This was… not what I expected,” she admits. “But the Crow speaks the truth,” she says, speaking louder, her tone dissonant and awkward. “My sister brought me to Delilah to fix me,” she says, and the slur in her voice makes Daud frown. “It sold us into her service.”

“Fix you how?” Havelock demands.

“I was born without hearing,” Aurelia says, without a trace of anxiety or embarrassment. “The Crow helped. Delilah didn't.”

Mayhew nods slowly. “If you remain with us, you can help Daud transport people. You retain your…?”

“I can Blink,” Aurelia agrees. “Until Delilah thinks to sever our Arcane Bond, I will help.”

“Captain Mayhew, you can't possibly!” Havelock starts to say.

But Alexi stares him down. “She's offering her help and she's alone. If she attacks us, we'll kill her. Aurelia, you said your name was?” The witch nods. “Good. Come with me.”

Aurelia glances at Corvo who nods in encouragement. She goes with Alexi, and Corvo is treated to Slackjaw and Burton clapping him on the shoulder in hello. “You've fuckin’ missed a shitshow, Attano,” Burton drawls. 

Corvo's eyebrows raise. “A shitshow?” he repeats. 

Daud, loathe to agree with Burton, nods. “We've had some… issues,” he says. “Rulfio and Pip were hurt, we’re out of Cure, and…”

“And Rulfio is dead,” Rinaldo says, stepping out from the infirmary shack. “My brother is dead because Pip took the last Cure.”

“That's not fair, Rinaldo,” Emily says.

“You know what's not fair?” Rinaldo demands. “What's not fair is that my twin brother is gone. What's not fair is that we -” 

Corvo transverses over to Rinaldo, pulling him into a hug, cutting him off. “Before you say anything you can't take back,” he says, pulling back and holding Rin at arms length, “You should know that Rulfio isn't dead.”

Daud's heart leaps. “What?”

With a small smile, Corvo nods. “I found him. He made it most of the way to the Bottle Street Distillery on his own power. We helped him the rest of the way. He's alive.”

“But still dying,” Rinaldo whispers.

“I gave him my bone charm,” Corvo says, shaking his head. “The ones I used to make back in Karnaca. Rulfio is still sick, and he's going to be in for a rough few months, until we can get the Cure underway, but he won't turn into a weeper. And it won't kill him. He'll be alright.”

Rinaldo’s face crumples and he sags into Corvo’s arms.

Daud can hear Rinaldo’s murmured thanks, just under the soothing hush noises Corvo is making. He meets Daud’s eyes over the top of Rinaldo’s head, and after several long seconds, pushes him away. “He had a few messages for you,” Corvo says. “He wanted you to know that he’s okay, that he’ll see you soon and that it isn’t Pip’s fault.”

At that, Rinaldo winces, face crumpling further. “... I… maybe… should find Pip,” he mumbles. 

“I’ll go with you,” Emily says, detaching from Corvo’s side to hug Rinaldo herself. “We’ll find him together.”

Rinaldo nods, wiping his face with his sleeve. “Thanks, Princess,” he says, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “... Crow. Thank you. You didn’t have to… Don’t get sick ‘cause of him, alright?”   
  
Corvo smiles, tipping his head in a nod. “I’ll be alright, Rin,” he says. “It’ll all be over soon.” 

Finally, Emily leads Rinaldo away, Havelock turns to follow Alexi and the witch, and Daud is past caring about an audience. He strides towards Corvo, who backs up obligingly until they’re almost hidden in the shadows between the workshop and the Pub. “Was it real?” Daud asks..

“Did we speak in the Void, you mean?” Corvo asks, and Daud nods sharply. “Yes, it was real.”

Daud’s mouth goes a little dry. That could mean then that Corvo is more powerful than Delilah - if he can seek people out in the Void like the Outsider could, then… “What does that mean for you?” Daud asks him, a chill running through him.

“It means that my ability to hide in plain sight draws to a close,” Corvo answers honestly.

“Don’t be particular,” Daud grouses. “You know what I meant.”

Corvo sighs, but smiles fondly. “I did, and I don’t have a straight answer for you.” He leans back against the wall. “If Delilah follows the pattern she’s in, she’s going to open a portal to the Void. She wants to rule it, because she’s bored of being an Empress. But what is more powerful than being Empress of the Isles?”

“... Being a god,” Daud murmurs. 

“Sadly, yes.” Corvo sighs again, his expression folding into something concerned. “But the Void itself… the Leviathan, it’s made itself pretty clear, and I’m afraid that if she goes into the Void, she’s going to be very disappointed with it.”

Daud frowns. “How so?”

“Oh, it made itself very clear the last time it spoke to me -  _ I  _ am it’s choice, now that it’s slipped the Outsider’s leash.” Sorrow sweeps across his face and he looks away. “I don’t know if that’s the Outsider’s last influence on it… or just personal preference. But what I do know is this: if Delilah goes into the Void, she won’t be returning, one way or another.” 

His eyes flicker a familiar silver, and Daud has had  _ enough _ of being patient. 

He crowds Corvo against the wall, leaning his hands on either side of his head. “Don’t you  _ dare _ die on me,” he growls.

Corvo presses himself into Daud’s space, back just arched enough for him to brush his chest against Daud’s. “Why Daud, it’s almost as if you care,” he says, sounding uncharitably amused. When Daud growls, he laughs softly, tilting his chin down to kiss him gently. “I have no plans on dying, I promise.”

Daud wraps his fingers around the back of Corvo’s neck, bracing himself with one hand, and drags him for a proper kiss, all teeth and tongue. Corvo gives back as good as he gets, and Daud pulls away to lean their foreheads together. “I hate this,” he whispers. 

“Yes…” Corvo agrees, pensive. “So do I.”

“It’ll all be over soon,” Daud says, but even to his ears, it sounds false. 

Corvo’s lips thin, but he nods in agreement. “One way or another,” he replies.

*


	17. 17. CORVO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Come on,” Corvo says gently. “Let’s go talk to Havelock.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my beloved Dani, with special thanks to Estora for helping me out with this chapter <3 As ever, my shoutouts include the ever lovely Luci, Aeniala, starbunny, Sasha, Lex and Sera <3 Thank you for all your support.
> 
> We're coming down to the wire folks. I've already started the third fic, and you'll notice this has an ending chapter length now. Hold on to your butts.
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/), for all your needs!

They stand in the alley, simply breathing in each other until Corvo’s shoulders itch with the sensation of being watched. “Who’s the kid?” he murmurs, stepping just a bit closer. 

Tensing, Daud’s eyes flick to the side before relaxing again. “Cedric,” he answers. “We rescued him from the Hatter gang. He’s probably never seen anything like this before.”

Corvo hums, dropping a kiss on Daud’s cheekbone, just over his scar. “We shouldn’t linger too much longer. We both have work to do.”

Daud sighs. “I know.” 

He holds Corvo to him for a moment that drags on longer than intended before Corvo takes a step back. 

“Come on,” Corvo says gently. “Let’s go talk to Havelock.”

Wrinkling his nose, Daud nods, falling into step with Corvo as they head back toward the Pub. Cedric is nowhere to be seen by the time they’ve reached where he’d been hiding, but Corvo isn’t worried if Daud isn’t. 

Aurelia beelines for Corvo as soon as they’re through the door and Corvo lifts an eyebrow. 

“I do hope you’re being kind to my friend here, Admiral,” Corvo says, a hint of a warning clinging to his tone. 

“Of course,” Havelock says. 

The way Aurelia’s mouth tightens tells Corvo otherwise, but she shakes her head slightly. Corvo’s lips thin.

“What have we decided so far?” he says instead, urging Aurelia back into the room. 

“Nothing new,” Alexi answers, scowling at Havelock too. She fills him in quickly on their plans. It all sounds fine, until she begins detailing Daud’s plan on using the surrounding roofs.

Corvo turns to look at him.

“Really?” he asks and Daud can’t meet his eyes. “The same route you took to get to Jessamine?”

Silence fills the room.

Daud scowls at the floor. “Delilah won’t know that,” he finally says. “It’s fast, safe, and gets us over the walls.”

“Yes,” Corvo agrees, moving beyond stunned into something more concerned, “if you can Blink or Transverse.”

“I could take them,” Aurelia says quietly, tapping the back of her hand. “Delilah’s bond to me is one way only. When you go back and tell her I am dead, she won’t know, and she won’t think of cutting our connection.”

Corvo shakes his head. “That’s relying a lot on Delilah’s rationality, which as I can attest, is not exactly at peak performance.” Aurelia smiles but doesn’t refute her offer. “Are you sure, Aurelia?”

“I am. Delilah has done terrible things. I miss Dunwall. This… isn’t my home.” She looks over at Daud. “I will help you.”

Daud glances at Corvo, obviously looking for some sort of reassurance so Corvo sighs, nodding. He can trust Aurelia. Even without the crows, or his old powers, it’s been a very long time since anyone has been able to lie to him successfully.

He always wondered if the Outsider had given him that power on purpose, the ability to discern a truth from a lie, after the complete and utter betrayal of the people around him. He’d never really gotten a chance to ask.

Now he never would.

“How many days more do you need to prepare?” Havelock demands. “The Overseers can get here in two.”

“Then I’ll take two days,” Corvo says blandly. “I’ve done my job, I’m already in.” He gestures to his rags, and the fact that the threads holding his clothing together had long since been turned into dark vines and roots. “Delilah has her hooks in me, Admiral Havelock. It takes a great deal of willpower to break from her, and even more to avoid the force of her personality. Aurelia and Billie have done the unimaginable, breaking from Delilah’s poison.”

“While you seem happy to drink from it,  _ Crow King? _ ” Havelock sneers. “Six months is all it’s taken for you to grow paler and your eyes to darken. I’m half expecting you to sprout thorns any moment. Perhaps we should start calling you the Rose King.”

Daud makes a low sound that spells death but Corvo just barks a laugh. “I promise you, Admiral, if I had become a king of anything except the crows, you would  _ know _ .”

“You are a witch, Attano,” Havelock says. “Like begets like, after all.”

Rage sparks to life in his chest. “What’s your point here, Havelock?” he snaps. “If you have one, please make it so we can get back to the real conversation. I recall we were planning to take down Delilah.”

Havelock smiles, looking oddly satisfied - ah. A test. Corvo sighs inwardly, cursing himself. 

“And what  _ will  _ you be doing when you return to Delilah?” Havelock asks, almost smug. 

Corvo grits his teeth. “Delilah’s plans are currently still her own, but I know she wishes to explore the source of our power. The Void is knowable to no one, but Delilah is arrogant enough to try. Her witches rely on her for their power, but she doesn’t have many, perhaps thirty or forty. The problem is what they can  _ do _ .”

“We’ve seen some of their powers before,” Alexi said. “The scream, and the thorns.”

Corvo nods. “The scream is of little consequence to you. Few can do it strongly enough to knock someone over. The workshop will have beeswax, you can roll some up and stick it in your ears to stop yourself from going deaf.” 

He catches Aurelia’s vaguely nauseated expression out of the corner of his eye. 

“And the thorns?” Alexi prompts.

“Treat them as any other projectile. It’s possible to dodge them entirely, or block them with a shield, your swords or shoot them out of the air if you’re lucky.” 

“Are there any powers we should be worried about?”

“Not from the witches,” Corvo answers. “Delilah took the wolfhounds that the Overseers left behind when she turned Holger square to rubble, and…” He breaks off, grimacing. “I’ll spare you the details. But the hounds she uses are… not quite alive, anymore.” 

The entire room recoils. 

“When they aren’t active,” he explains, “you can see their skulls, just laying about. When you’ve garnered their attention, they become hounds. In that form, they’re borderline impossible to kill.”

“Unless you shoot them,” Aurelia says quietly.

“Aurelia?” Corvo prompts.

“In the skull. If they are unaware, you can shoot them once in the skull. It’ll destroy them. If they are aware, it takes two shots.”

“And the statues?” Havelock asks. “The entire Royal District is choked with the things.” 

Corvo surpresses a wince. “Delilah is the only witch who can turn people into stone,” he says. “It’s just her witches you’ll have to deal with.”

“ _ Just _ her witches?” Daud asks, rough and concerned. “Are you saying we won’t have to deal with Delilah?”

Corvo’s expressions flattens. “No,” he says. “Delilah and I have some unfinished business, and she’ll be far too busy with Billie and I to pay you any mind.”

“Two days,” Havelock muses. “We’ll strike before dawn.” 

Aurelia and Corvo snort in unison. 

“Most of the witches fancy themselves nocturnal,” Corvo answers their unasked questions. “It’s best to attack at noon when most of the witches have decided to nap.” 

Havelock nods. “Very well. Two days from now, at noon. We will attack on three sides.”

“Good,” Corvo says. “I will meet you in the midst of battle when I can.”

Daud grabs the back of Corvo’s jacket before he can Blink out of there, tilting his head toward the door to the stairs. Corvo relents, following Daud up to the attic room. 

“Corvo…” Daud says, as soon as they’re into the room and the door is closed behind them.

“Daud?” Corvo prompts, stepping up behind him and placing his hand on Daud’s shoulder.

That makes him turn, hand catching Corvo’s and tugging him forward. It surprises him just enough that he tips headfirst into Daud’s space, thudding against Daud’s chest. 

“I…” Daud says slowly, “am concerned for you. We all are. Well,” he admits, managing to smile humorlessly, “maybe not Havelock.” 

Corvo snorts softly, letting Daud take his weight. “I don’t imagine Havelock thinks much of me in any way,” he agrees. “But I’m alright. I’m very ready for this to be over.”

Daud frowns at him, taking his face in his hands. “You’ve lost weight.”

“Food isn’t exactly in abundance.”

“You’ve gone pale.” 

“It’s  _ Dunwall _ .”

“Your eyes are brown,” Daud murmurs. 

Corvo blinks. “Well,” he says after a few terse moments tick by in guilty silence, though what he’s feeling guilty for, he isn’t entirely sure. “...That was my natural color.”

Daud growls, tightening his grip on Corvo. “You’re putting me off, and what’s worse is you’re not even doing it well,” he says. “Corvo,  _ talk to me _ .”

“There’s nothing to say!” he hisses. “I know what’s happening to me, and there’s no stopping it anymore. All I can do now is let it run its course.”

“Let  _ what _ run its course?” Daud demands.

“Delilah!” 

That stops him, hands still clinging to the back of Corvo’s neck. “What’s she doing to you?” 

Suddenly exhausted, Corvo leans his forehead against Daud’s, letting him take all his weight. 

“The Void is unstable,” he murmurs. “It doesn’t have a keeper, a minder. A leash. It’s expanding too far and too fast to contain itself, and those of us who tap into it, we’re getting weaker.”

Daud’s hold on him tightens.

“Well, everyone else is,” he admits. “I’m not. Delilah isn’t.”

“But your eyes…” Daud points out.

“Have shifted back to my natural eye color? Yes,” Corvo agrees. “My eyes turned silver when I opened a hole in the world to the Void to find Emily when I thought she was dead. I bled a river of blood through Cullero, and ripped a hole in the world, using salt, and oil, and bone and blood. I looked into the Void and the Void looked back.” He heaves a sigh. “Spirits pass through the Void and sometimes linger, but not Emily’s and I… gave it up. I closed the portal, and I vowed never to kill again.”

“But?” Daud murmurs.

“But I was left with the reminder that my world had lost it’s color, I carried the Void with me forever.” He closes his eyes. “And now I don’t need to. The Void is no longer just a  _ part _ of me, Daud. The Void  _ is  _ me.”

Daud’s expression freezes into something Corvo can’t quite read, except for his eyes. His eyes are afraid. “What does that mean for you?” 

“It means,” he says, like the last time Daud asked him that only an hour ago, “that my ability to hide in plain sight draws to a close. It also means… that Delilah isn’t taking power from the Void anymore. She’s taking it from me.” He shows Daud the Mark, black against his very white skin, burned into the skin of his hand.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Daud breathes, taking his hand. “Corvo, you can’t go back there. She’s going to kill you.”

“There’s no way this ends if I abandon my part now,  _ amante _ ,” Corvo says with a sad smile. “Delilah will drain me dry no matter where I am. If I go back, at least I have the ability to recharge, considering how much of the Void is already leaking into the Tower.”

Daud looks behind him, and tangles his fingers in Corvo’s shirt, pulling him toward the bed. When the back of Daud’s legs hits the edge, he sits, leading Corvo down with him. He ends up straddling Daud’s thighs, leaning over him. “I can’t give you energy,” Daud says. “Or bring you closer to the Void. But I am here with you, even when you’re there with her.”

Corvo still doesn’t know if he’ll survive walking into the Void a second time, but he can’t stand the look of desolation in Daud’s eyes. 

“We’ll figure it out,” Corvo promises, even if it’s an empty one. “It’ll all be over soon, and we’ll be… back to the way things were.”

Daud lifts a dubious eyebrow. “When we were in Karnaca?” he asks wryly.

“... _ Close  _ to back to the way things were,” Corvo amends with a smile, leaning his forehead against Daud’s. “Emily will be Empress, and she’ll have you as a Protector, and me as her Spymaster. We’ll fit back together somehow.”

Daud draws back sharply. “Hold up. Why am  _ I _ suddenly the Royal Protector? That’s  _ your  _ job.”

Amused, Corvo shakes his head. “It was, once. But look at me, Daud. I’m hardly Lord anything material, and too many people down there know me for what I am - witch, heretic, unsuitable to be seen standing at the left hand of an Empress.”

“ _ I’m  _ a heretic,” Daud points out.

“You were, but you’re not anymore and no one can actually prove otherwise,” Corvo says. “You’ll make a fine Lord Protector, Daud.”

Daud’s eyes narrow and he shoves Corvo, though not hard enough to do much more than rock him gently. “I refuse.”

That makes Corvo grin. “I dare you say that to Emily’s face.”

“I’m not stupid enough to get on her bad side,” Daud mutters. “You should have seen her earlier, you’d have been proud.” He grins at Corvo.  “She told Curnow that he wasn’t allowed to comment on on what happened when she was child because she was there, unlike him who should have been.”

Corvo winces. He knows what he feels for Daud comes close to love, and he doesn't have to imagine that Jessamine would not approve. Hearing about the day she was murdered still aches in a way he can’t quite describe. It gets easier, seeing Daud, and finding no trace of the man who was capable of killing her. “He should have been,” Corvo agrees. 

Daud’s amusement fades immediately and he clears his throat, looking away. “Burrows had everything planned to the letter.” He tips his head in consideration. “Except for you.” 

It’s probably inappropriate to laugh at that, but Corvo snorts. “I do live to defy expectations.” 

“Good,” Daud says, expression serious. “You’re to use that and come back. If not to me, then to Emily.” 

Corvo summons a smile from somewhere, leaning in and giving Daud a short kiss. “You’ll see me again,” he promises. “I’m not quite ready to throw everything away.” He sighs, and straightens. “I’m going to ask you to do something you won’t like.”

Daud frowns at him. “What?”

“When I go back to Delilah, I have to tell her that Aurelia is dead,” Corvo explains. “And if I tell her that Aurelia just wandered off, she’s not going to believe that - so I’m going to tell her that we were attacked.” 

Daud narrows his eyes. “What is it you want me to do, Corvo?” he asks, tone sharp.

“I want you to fight me, and win,” Corvo answers evenly. “I need you to hurt me.” 

“No.”

“Be reasonable about this,” he says and Daud scoffs, shoving away from Corvo and turning away to look out of the window. “If you don’t want to, or can’t, I’ll just go to someone else.” The words drop like knives between them. “I’m certain Havelock would be willing to slice me open with his sword.”

Daud snarls just the way Corvo expected him to. “Havelock isn’t coming near you with a sword.” 

Corvo waits. 

“Fine,” Daud bites out. “I’ll follow you out. I’m not doing that in front of Emily, or the other whalers. What do you want me to do, break your nose?” 

“Nothing so drastic,” Corvo answers, keeping his tone mild. “A light stabbing should do nicely.”

The look Daud shoots him is sour enough to curdle milk. “A light stabbing,” he repeats. “You’re something else.”

Corvo just smiles. 

*

Bloodied but whole, Corvo pauses at the doors to the throne room when he finally limps back to the Tower. Behind the door, the instinctual pull of the Void inside him senses Delilah and the majority of her witches. He waits outside for several moments, breathing deeply to settle his nerves.

They’ve been working for over six months on this moment; he has to make it count. 

Once his breathing is steady, Corvo shoves open the doors and strides through, half Blinking, half stepping. He lets everything fall away - everything but anger, the Void and the magic he’s been burning through for the last few months. 

Delilah looks up when he enters, and her eyes narrow as he draws close. 

“You’re bleeding,” she says. 

“I was attacked,” Corvo spits. 

On cue, Sabina Blinks in front of him, grabbing his shirt. “My sister,” she snarls. “Where is my sister?!”

Corvo takes her hands, squeezes once. “Dead,” he says, to a chorus of gasps. Sabina cries out a howl of agony so convincing that Corvo almost forgets she knows the truth. “We were on patrol close to the old Boyle place. Aurelia saw something, and her warning saved my life.”

“Weepers?” Delilah asks, her expression bored.

“No,” Corvo says. “Men.” He wipes at the blood on his face. “They came out of nowhere, and Aurelia took a crossbow bolt that lamed her. She Blinked away, but…” He snarled, low and angry, letting the emotion carry him through the lie. “It wasn’t far enough.”

Delilah sits up. “Men,” she repeats. “Who would  _ dare _ ?” 

Corvo pulls away from Sabina, who collapses to her knees. Her desolation is real enough that Corvo feels his conviction falter, so he leaves her where she falls, letting the other witches comfort her.

Corvo falls to his knees. “Forgive me, Empress,” he rasps, his mouth twisting in disgust. “The traitors… they said… ‘Down with Delilah. Down with the false Empress’.”

“ _ What _ ,” Delilah shrieks.

That draws all the witches’ attentions. They pull to her as her magic pulls and pulses through the room and Corvo lets it wash over him. 

Delilah struggles with herself for the barest of moments - then sighs and composes herself once more.

“A Resistance,” Delilah says coolly. “Crafty to remain hidden for so long, but you dug them out - that’s what you do Crow King, isn’t it? Find secrets and reveal them.” She meets Corvo’s gaze, her eyes a bright, startling silver. “It’s time, then. My final masterpiece is almost finished and when it is, we will bring this city down to the bedrock.”

“My lady,” Corvo murmurs.

“Do you stand with me?” Delilah demands of the witches scattered about the room.

Their cheer echoes through the room, ringing up to the rafters. “Prepare for war,” the witches shriek, and cackle. 

“Once my masterpiece is complete, there will be none who can stand before me,” Delilah says, a wicked glee emanating from her very being. She stands, holding out her hand to Billie, who slowly joins her, and then she turns to Corvo. 

“Well, Crow?” she asks, imperious.

No, she isn’t asking, he realizes. She’s  _ demanding _ .

Corvo allows himself a second to say goodbye, mourning the lies he told and the things he didn’t say. They’ll understand, once it’s over. Corvo takes another deep breath, closes his eyes, and gives in. 

The Void inside him swells and the barrier he’d built dissolves with his will. Delilah’s power slams through him, and Corvo watches the skin of his left arm slowly fill with black, starting at his fingertips and creeping up his elbows. The mantle of his jacket curls and drips with cercis flowers, their colors muted and grey against his paling skin. 

He ascends the staircase towards Delilah, amaranthus sprouting around his feet, breaking through the moss and marble. When he takes her hand, hemlock spears between them and Corvo breaks off a leaf to tuck it in her hair. 

“Well, Crow?” The growing lust for power in Delilah’s eyes is intoxicating. “What say you?”

Corvo smiles slowly, and the tattoos on his right arm flicker red. “Empress,” he says, gravely, “I have made my choice.”


	18. 18. DAUD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I can still get Havelock to do this,” he calls over to Daud._
> 
>  
> 
> _“You will do no such thing,” Daud replies, refusing to rise to the bait._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thank you again, to my darling Estora for the extra help!!
> 
> And, as ever, this chapter is for my beloved Dani, Sera, Lex, Sasha, Luci, and cobain_cleopatra. Your support and comments, and everything you've done for me is just. Thank you, all of you, so much. <3
> 
> You can find me on [ Tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com), for all your needs!

Fighting with Corvo in the streets of Dunwall is familiar in a strange sort of way. They’d never truly crossed blades before - when he’d killed Jessamine he’d made certain to keep Corvo out of the way - and by the time they’d met again, neither of them were much for bloodshed.

It almost feels inevitable when Corvo draws his blade and waits for Daud’s move. In another life perhaps they might have found themselves here, fighting in the street like common animals. Or perhaps back in Rudshore, after everything was said and done.

Corvo’s face is neutral, and he holds his blade expertly but loosely.  “I can still get Havelock to do this,” he calls over to Daud.

“You will do no such thing,” Daud replies, refusing to rise to the bait.

He studies Corvo but finds nothing that tells him not to do this. Knowing Corvo, he will absolutely seek out Havelock for this if Daud cannot do it, so Daud does the only thing he can: he strikes.

It’s half-hearted at best, weak at worst, but the sound of blades clashing is a familiar one. Corvo raises an eyebrow at him, looking down at where their swords are locked.

“Having second thoughts?” he wonders, a smirk dancing over his face.

“Strangely enough,” Daud grumbles, shoving Corvo back, “I don’t actually want to hurt you.”

Then Corvo vanishes. It’s been nine months since Daud has had a Mark of his own, but he knows how to fight with someone who has one. He spins, blocking Corvo’s strike from behind, and drives his shoulder into Corvo’s sternum, forcing him to back up.

“You’re still hesitating,” Corvo says, transversing again, only to reappear in Daud’s blindspot. “You reach for magic that isn’t there, and it’s making you slow. The Outsider is dead.” His voice cracks when he says it, but it doesn’t make Daud feel any better about it. “And you’re taking the fight to Delilah. _She_ won’t hesitate. Forget your magic, forget it ever existed. It’s going to get you killed if you don’t.”

“I had my powers for thirty years,” Daud snarls, blocking another strike. “You think it’s so easy?”

“No,” Corvo says. “I think it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do.” He transverses directly into Daud’s space. “But if you don’t, I can’t help you.”

Daud rolls his eyes, but when he twists away, slicing at Corvo’s unprotected belly, he hits home.

The splatter of blood on the filthy streets makes him pause, staring down at the bright red droplets.

Once, he’d been the most feared - and successful - assassin in all of the isles. People feared his name - Void, people _still_ fear his name. He’s out of practice now; one Overseer in how many years? How things - how _he_ \- has changed, the Outsider would laugh to see it.

That Overseer who had attempted to rip Emily’s clothing off of her had been his first kill since Jessamine, and this, his first real fight.

Corvo catches his face in both hands. “Daud,” Corvo reminds him, tone gentle, “I asked you to do this.”

The fact that Corvo is treating him like he’s going to break makes long forgotten rage flare through him. Daud snarls wordlessly, shoving Corvo back and attacking in earnest.

Even though Corvo is obviously startled by the action he still blocks and defends, soundly in retreat. Spurred on by his rage - at Havelock, at Delilah, at Corvo for making Daud _do this_ \- Daud presses again, and his sword carves a line from Corvo’s left shoulder to his hip.

Corvo staggers backwards, and Daud drops his sword as though it’s poison.

Corvo touches the wound, spreading blood from it across his palm to drip down his wrist. It’s bright against his too-pale skin. When Corvo wipes the blood across his face, Daud grimaces.

“Surely that wasn’t necessary.”

Corvo only shrugs. “I’ll at least look the part.”

He sheathes his sword, evidently satisfied with his wounds, before picking up Daud’s and handing it back to him, hilt first.

“You’re the worst sort of choffer,” Daud grumbles, taking it back from him and holding it listlessly.

“Yes,” Corvo agrees with a genuine smile. “But you knew that already.”

“Apparently I’d sufficiently forgotten.”

Still smiling, Corvo tilts his chin down, angling for a kiss which Daud gives him. “I have to go,” he says. “You should expect Billie, soon. She was meant to meet me here, but depending on Delilah’s mood, having both of us gone from the Tower could make her… anxious.”

“Joy,” Daud says flatly.

“She’s on our side,” Corvo reminds him.

Daud snorts, shaking his head and stepping away from Corvo. “I thought that once six years ago,” he says before sighing. “I know, I _know_. I’m… sorry. If you trust her, that’s good enough for me.”

“I do, as much as I can,” Corvo murmurs. “Be safe, _amante._ ”

He gives Daud one last long look before tranversing away, leaving Daud alone in the bloodied street.

“You too, _tesoro_ ,” he mutters, knowing Corvo is already gone.  

Daud takes his time walking back to the Hound Pits Pub courtyard, flicking blood off his sword. Emily darts across the grass to his side before he can sheathe the blade to hide the evidence.

“Why do you have blood on you?” she demands, reaching for his jacket. Daud evades her. “Daud! Are you hurt? Is Dad hurt?”

He absolutely does not want to tell Emily that he sliced up Corvo anymore than he’d wanted to do it in the first place. “No, I’m not hurt, and Corvo is fine. He went back to the Tower.”

Emily’s eyes narrow - she’s too smart for her own good. “You two had a fight?” she says, clinging to his jacket so he can’t move past her. “You actually _fought_? We have to go to battle in two days!”

Daud takes her hands, pulling them off his jacket. “Emily,” he says, tone firm. “Corvo. Is. Fine.”

“Fine is a terrible lie, and you know it,” she insists. “What happened?”

“I did,” the still unfamiliar voice of Aurelia says. Both Daud and Emily glance up at her approaching, startled. Aurelia smiles wryly. “How am I meant to be dead if there was no sign of a fight? There must be a sign of my demise, or Delilah won’t believe it.”

Emily glances at Daud who, sighing, nods. “Yeah,” he admits. “Corvo and I fought, but it wasn’t real, and he’s _fine_ , so calm down and stop drawing attention to it.”

He sheaths his sword, crossing his arms over his chest. Aurelia nods to him in thanks before she transverses away.

“Sorry,” Emily murmurs.

Daud sighs again. He almost reaches out to ruffle her hair the way he’s done countless times before, but stops himself when the thought that Emily… just _isn’t_ a child any longer strikes him hard. She’s going to be the Empress, in a matter of _days_ if the plan goes well. It won’t do for an Empress to have her hair ruffled by her Lord Protector.

Least of all because he doesn’t want… _other_ members of the Loyalists thinking they can do the same to her.

“It’s fine,” he says, clenching his fist. “We’ll figure it out.”

“You’re going to war,” Emily says sharply. “What is there to figure out?”

Sensing that this is one of those conversations she won’t leave alone, Daud pulls Emily to a stop. “War is not like it is in the stories, Princess,” he says. “You don’t remember a time of fighting, but there are going to be _losses_. People will die, and we have to figure out who goes where, who fights what - and who will be here to clean up the aftermath.”

She bites her lip, looking away. “You and Corvo?”

“Corvo is a witch,” Daud says. “He will likely survive us all.”

Finally, Emily nods. “You’ll be careful, won’t you?”

“I’ll be careful,” he promises.

He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that promises mean nothing in war.

*

Within a day and a half, their small courtyard of close-knit people has been entirely overrun with a large squadron of Overseers. Daud avoids them at all costs, as do Rinaldo, Pip, Thomas and Emily. He knows Emily remembers the way the Overseers had treated Corvo when they were back in Karnaca, and Rinaldo has had more reason to fear them than most.

Without his twin there, Rinaldo is already a shadow of himself, but having the Overseers around just makes him worse. They’ve never spoken of how much he - or Rulfio - remembers of their time with the Overseers, only that for years the twins would wake each other with the night terrors, and that their bond was always too tight for their own good. Thomas had taken care of them for most of their childhood with the whalers, keeping them out of the worst areas of Rudshore, training them with needles, then with daggers, then with swords. Twenty years he’d raised them, twenty years of keeping Overseers away from them, and now here they were in the center of the rat swarm.

“Are you going to be ready for this?” Daud hears Thomas ask Rinaldo.

“I’ll be fine,” is the answer. “I’m not useless.”

Thomas just sighs. “I know you aren’t, Rin, come on.”

“Crow says he’ll live,” Rinaldo says. “I have to trust in the Crow, and that’s what I’m going to do. And if I get to crack some witches’ skulls together, then I’ll do that too.”

Daud glances over and meets Thomas’ eyes, reading the question in them. He shakes his head; he’s already being forced to leave Pip behind, he can’t afford to leave Rinaldo behind too. Thomas accepts that without comment, instead clapping Rinaldo on the shoulder.

In less than twelve hours, they’re going to stage the assault on the Tower.

He’ll take Aurelia, Rinaldo, Thomas and Burton with him to the roofs where he’d once waited to kill a very different Empress. Emily will go with Samuel and Liz Stride and the rest of the Eels, while Slackjaw and the rest lead the frontal assault.

At some point, he knows that Corvo and Billie will betray Delilah, but until they reach the inner Tower, it won’t matter what they do.

“Boss,” Thomas says quietly. “You should sleep.”

Daud gives him a dry look. “Really?” he mutters, pouring himself a finger or six of whiskey. “That’s not likely to happen any time soon.”

Thomas leans against the bar, pushing a green fletched crossbow bolt across to him. “I know,” he says, “that’s why I had them make me this.”

Picking up the quarter filled sleep dart, Daud examines it in the light. “You know this won’t work on me.”

“I had Piero refine it,” Thomas admits. “It’s more powerful than our old doses. He’s making as much as he can with the supplies we have left. With that dose, you should sleep for at least eight hours.”

“Are you going to use some yourself?” Daud asks, lifting a brow. “You’ve slept less than I have this last week.”

Thomas shrugs one shoulder. “I’ll take it, yeah,” he answers. “But only if you do.”

Sighing, Daud tucks the dart into his pocket. “Fine,” he grunts. “Emily put you up to it?”

“No,” Thomas replies. “Rinaldo did, just before he dosed himself. I know what you’re thinking about right now, boss. It’s not the same, and the Crow isn’t going to suddenly hate you.”

Daud tosses back his whiskey. “Thanks for the dart, Thomas,” he says. “I’ll see you in eight hours.”

He makes his way back to the attic room that is too large for just himself, and lays down on the too narrow bed and injects the sleep dart into his arm, wondering if his immunity to the poison will stop him from reacting to it. It doesn’t; Daud falls asleep between one breath and the next, finding himself standing on a familiar gazebo floating through the Void.

The scene in front of him is one that has haunted his dreams for years. Jessamine lays bleeding on the white marble, the pool of blood around her growing ever larger, as Corvo cradles her carefully in his arms. There’s a scrap of paper hovering in the air, mid-fall, and Daud plucks it out of the tableau.

_ALL YOUR FAULT ALL YOUR FAULT ALL YOUR FAULT ALL YOUR FAULT_

Daud drops the page, backing away from a devastated Corvo and a dead Empress, turning to flee, and the gazebo disappears, leaving him standing in front of a massive painting.

It’s not Sokolov’s work. He’s well familiar with the artistry and style of Anton Sokolov; this only bears notes of resemblance. It hangs in the nothingness of the Void, floating above him, and when Daud looks over his shoulder, the gazebo has vanished entirely, leaving him standing in his old office at Rudshore.

“Enough!” he barks, turning from the painting. “Gods damn it, enough. What do you want me to see?!”

A low sound makes him walk to the edge of the loft where he once slept, and he looks down at the office. It’s certainly not his office anymore. Where bookshelves and desks used to stand, there are now vines and rose bushes bursting from the windows.

A man lays in the middle of the floor, a dagger or a sword sticking out of his chest. His fingers flutter around it, as though debating on pulling it out. Daud moves down the stairs, kneeling by the Outsider. “Is this real?” he asks, half expecting the scene to vanish like all the others.

The Outsider’s eyes, dark and emotionless fix on Daud’s face. “How fitting,” he rasps. “You appear here at the end of my time.”

Daud startles. “This is _real_?” he demands.

“It’s as real as anything in the Void, old friend,” the Outsider rasps out. Blood, or something like it begins pool out from under him, getting the knees of Daud’s trousers damp with black oily fluid. “Truly, I had expected - but why would he be here, when I have already said my goodbye.” The Outsider reaches out, and some of the black oily liquid trails up his arm to turn into a Crow who stares at him with one beady eye before collapsing with a splash.

“Delilah did this to you,” Daud says, half a question, half a certainty.

The Outsider’s mouth ticks up in a small smile. “Delilah did many things,” he agrees.

“There must be something I can -”

“No. It’s finished.” The Outsider offers him a wry smile. “I’ve known… so many in my years. Did you know you are the only one who has ever regained my interest after losing it?”

“Outsider -”

“Goodbye, my old friend.”

With a slow exhale, the darkness drains from the Outsider’s eyes, leaving them a filmy white. “Outsider?” Daud barks.

The Outsider’s head tips back, and his body dissolves into a rush of black oil, that swirls around the room, growing larger and larger until Daud is forced to flee back to the loft. The roses and vines are sucked into the maelstrom of darkness and shadow, and Daud realizes as things take form and tendrils branch out, that he’s witnessing the true death of the Outsider.

And the birth of the Leviathan.

Dark, insidious laughter fills the once familiar rooms of Rudshore, and the building shakes and trembles with it. Slowly, pieces fall away, leaving him exposed, but Leviathan pays him no attention. **FINALLY** , it purrs, and turns with lightning fast reflexes, many million mouths descending upon Daud.

He wakes up.

*

“The next time you decide to give me drugs,” Daud growls to Thomas as they scale the building that will put them on the same level as the gazebo, “don’t.”

Thomas grunts out half a laugh. “I take it you didn’t enjoy your rest?”

Daud growls, hoisting himself onto the roof and leaning back over the edge to grab Aurelia’s hand. She takes it, pulling herself up next to him, breathing hard.

“Mister Daud,” Aurelia says in thanks, her voice only slurring a little.

Burton, Thomas and Rinaldo climb up after her, sitting heavily on the edge of the building. “Remind me a-fuckin’-gain why we didn’t fuckin’, I don’t know, teleport over?” Burton asks between heaving breaths.

“Because, Mister Burton, the strain of so many transversals would leave Aurelia crippled,” Thomas drawls.

“Mister Daud,” Aurelia says again, and she tugs on his sleeve. “We must hurry.”

He glances at the sky, and nods. “Right,” he says. “Come on, you lot. We have a deadline.” The five of them hurry across the flat and angular roofs, leaping the gaps and using the architecture against itself to make their way to last roof.

Daud is assaulted with memories of a time before, when Billie stood with him and they were sure of their actions. Now he’s staring down the barrel of another Empress killing. He swallows back the heavy feeling in his throat, and pulls out the flare gun from his holster. Taking careful aim, he shoots, watching dispassionately as the flame rises through the air and explodes in green light.

Another flare shoots up seconds later, this one exploding blue; Stride and the Eels are in position. A moment later, another explosion in red on his right; the Overseers are at the gates. Lastly, the white flare just behind the red appears.

“That’s everyone,” he says.

There’s a ringing silence, and then the Overseers descend.

From their last attack on the witches, they know better than to bring their music boxes; instead the Overseers are armed to the teeth, and twice as angry as the last time, charging through the statues of their brothers.

On their heels runs the Bottle Street Gang, joined by what remains of the Hatters, each and all of them carrying something flammable.

Using a spyglass, Daud watches as the Eels shoot grappling hooks into the side of the cliffs, climbing up and into the courtyard with uncanny dexterity.

The pronged attack does its job. The witches transverse into the Overseers, screams and flashes of red thorns echoing in the narrow streets, while the Eels are largely overlooked. Aurelia grabs his arm. “We should go,” she shouts, and then they’re transversing.

She leaves him in the middle of the defaced gazebo, reappearing with Burton and Thomas and Rinaldo one after another.

She stumbles when she lands the last time with Thomas, and Daud catches her by the arms. “Get out of here,” he says clearly. “We’ll meet you back at the Hound Pits.”

Aurelia nods once. “Thank you for trusting me,” she says, and disappears.

Burton gives Daud a sloppy salute. “To the gates?”

Daud inclines his head. “Burton to the gates, Rinaldo, Thomas with me. We’re waiting back up only at this point, we need to wait until the bulk of the Overseers and the Bottle Street Gang gets through.”

Thomas nods, slipping into the shadows and vanishing expertly, while Rinaldo takes a few halting steps backwards and climbing up onto the roof of the gazebo with envy inducing elegance. Burton gives them all one last look before taking off for the gates, and Daud steps away from the memories of the last time he’d been there to take cover behind broken crates.

Witches pour out of the Tower, some transversing, some simply running, but Burton was right when he said he was the best lockpick in Dunwall.

The witches hit the courtyard, and the Overseers are waiting for them.

Thomas springs into action.

In several deft movements, the four closest witches stumble and fall, crossbow bolts through their throats. Daud loads up his own wristbow, switching the bolts to the sleep darts, taking out a witch just as she transverses up to Thomas’ side.

Rinaldo leaps down off the gazebo, landing on a witches back. He drives her head into the ground, using his elbow to knock her unconscious.

The three of them pen the witches in, bringing them closer to the far less careful Overseers.

The Overseers break through, running up to the open double doors of the main hall of the Tower. Daud nods to Rinaldo and Thomas, who join the Bottle Street Gang seamlessly, knocking back witches and hounds with well placed bolts.

The door to the Tower is overrun.

Witches appear out of nowhere, slashing wildly with short swords, and screaming, the sound knocking everyone who hears it back.

Once inside, Slackjaw slams to the forefront, burning the blockade of shelves with an almost endless deluge of fire. A gravehound leaps out of the flames, and Daud puts a bullet in its skull just before it takes off Slackjaw’s head.

The staircase is crawling with vines. He can see Delilah standing on the second floor, twisting plants around her. Someone stands next to her, dark haired, dark skinned, silver eyed.

Corvo.

There is nothing about him that’s familiar any longer. Whatever was left of Corvo two days past, it’s gone now.

Thorns have overtaken his arms, the ends glowing red. His tattoos are broken with red Voidlight, and his hair is a mass of coiled leaves.

When he’d left, he’d truly been saying goodbye.

Pain spears through his shoulder and he turns with a snarl, yanking thorns out of his flesh and coat. A redheaded witch advances on him, thorns knocking Overseers out of her way. Her scream is powerful, slamming him off his feet.

She pulls out knives, throwing them with each step. The first misses, the second pins his jacket sleeve to the stairs. The third pierces his left hand, and Daud rips his wristbow off.

He takes sloppy aim with his right, but she bats the sleep dart out of the air with another scream.

He shoots again and again, but without his magic, without his abilities - Daud is helpless.

Billie lost her nerve. Daud can barely see through the smoke and red mist of witches and thorns and vines.

Steeling himself, he rips the knife out of his hand, feeling it spasm, and he stands. Clenching his fist, Daud pulls out his sword. The witch smiles, and flings another dagger.

The sound of a transversal breaks up the sound of battle. Ash, Void and smoke swirls around Billie as she appears in front of him, just in time.

The dagger slams into her chest.

“ _Billie!_ ”

He looks around for Corvo, for _anyone_ to get her out of there before she bleeds out.

Across the distance of the room, through the battle felling Overseer and witch alike, Corvo’s eyes meet his.

Daud takes a step forward but Corvo shakes his head. There’s nothing in his expression as he grabs Delilah, pulling her back. Delilah ignores the battle, instead she grabs him close. Their foreheads press together, and then they’re gone, transversed away.

Corvo has abandoned them.

*


	19. 19. CORVO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"What have you_ done?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late, y'all. Had to drive a few hours to get to my sister's place. 
> 
> As ever, this is for my beloved Dani, Lex, Estora, Aeniala and everyone who has been so supportive of me. Thank you _so much_ for everything. 
> 
> I can be found on [Tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/) for all your needs!
> 
> Second to last chapter, y'all.

“What have you  _ done _ ?” 

Billie’s fascination is laced with horror. 

It is not without reason. Corvo looks down at himself and grimaces, pulling a flower off his collar and scrubs a hand through his hair, longer now with strands of grass and other greenery. “Playing my part, Billie,” he murmurs. “Delilah needs to believe I’m fully committed to this, and now, in appearance, I am.” 

Billie runs her fingers over one of the thorns spearing out of his left arm. “You might not come back from this one, Crow . ”

“What else can I do?” he asks, rubbing his forehead. “Delilah has painted us into a corner - my bone charms are useless now, the Void is… misbehaving… and we are running out of options.” He looks down at the thorns where her hand rests. “If I don’t have her trust, I don’t have the ability to kill her.”

“Why is it so important to you? ” she asks. “ Anyone could kill her . W hy must it be  _ you _ ?” 

Corvo check s the door to make sure it  is still closed behind them. “I don’t have the time to explain to you exactly why this is what I have to do,” he says. “Suffice it to say that Delilah took someone very dear to me.”

“Who?” 

He gives her an incredulous look. “  Don’t you know? When Delilah killed the Outsider, Daud lost his Mark, his Arcane Bond failed. Our Marks are gone.” 

As he speaks, a strange expression crosses Billie’s face. 

“What?” he asks, wary,  narrowing his eyes.

Billie finally lets go of his arm to rub the back of her neck. “Look,” she says. “I… shouldn’t tell you this, but who knows what’s going to happen. The Outsider isn’t dead.”

“...  _ What _ .”

“I’m certain he wishes he is,” she murmurs. “Delilah stripped him of his power, leaving him as little more than a shadow of himself. If she finishes her portal to the Void, she’ll go there to finish the job, steal what’s left of him.”

Corvo’s mouth opens, then closes as he turns over what she said in his head. “So what you’re telling me,” he says after a minute of silence, “is that Leviathan  _ is the Outsider _ ?” 

Slowly, she nods. “Leviathan is the - raw, primal power of the Void, Delilah explained it to us. The Outsider, the creature you knew who Marked you, that’s just a human who was unlucky enough to get thrown to the Void like a sacrifice. Anyone who tames Leviathan, the Void, the darkness, whatever - that’s who becomes the god everyone worships.” Billie wrinkles her nose. “When she pulled the Outsider and Leviathan apart, she opened Leviathan up for a new deity.”

“She aims to become that deity,” Corvo says before she can. “And the Outsider?”

Billie spreads her hands. “He’s still in there somewhere.”

Corvo’s heart, which had felt as stone since the day the Outsider said his goodbyes, thaws. “Oh,” he breathes, sitting heavily. “When Delilah opens the portal to the Void she’s in for a very brutal surprise.”

Billie tilts her head to the side , waiting for him to explain.

Corvo laughs, half hysteria, half helplessness. “I don’t know why I didn’t see it before.”

She scowls at him. “ _ What _ , Attano?”

Corvo gestures to himself. “Leviathan is self aware, Billie,” he says. “It knows what it wants, and that isn’t Delilah. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before - the Outsider reaching out the only way he knew how, through the darkness. Through… Leviathan. When Delilah walks through that portal, she’ll do it with me at her side ... and Leviathan won’t choose her.”

“ _ You’ll _ be there?” she asks, skeptically. “You’d leave Daud and Emily to fight alone?”

Corvo gives her a flat look. “Daud has been fighting for forty-seven years, and most of those were without me by his side. And if you think for one second he’s going to let a sixteen year old girl join the battle for anything, you don’t know him as well as you say you do.”

Whatever hostility is still in her expression subsides, and Billie sighs, sitting on the floor by his feet. “I know,” she says quietly. 

Corvo reaches out and lifts her chin so their eyes can meet. “Look, Billie,” he says as kindly as he’s able. “I can’t promise what’s going to happen, that either of us will be with her when she tries to open the portal. But I  _ need _ to be there - Delilah cannot be allowed to take over the Void.”

“On that we can agree,” Billie says darkly.

“Not that she would be able to,” Corvo adds lightly, a slight smile on his face. 

She gives him a narrow look and pushes his hand away from her chin. “Delilah is a singularly stubborn woman,” she points out. “It will take force to keep her from her goals.”

Though Corvo agrees with the assessment he shakes his head. “I know that,” he allows. “But that’s not what I mean - the Void will reject her claim against it. Leviathan will refuse her.”

“She’s the reason it’s free in the first place . How can you be so sure?”

Feeling more like himself right now than he has in almost a year, Corvo tilts his head down to meet her gaze. He’s not in Karnaca, and things are still bleak and cold, and impossible, but he grins, tips her a wink. “I’m the Crow King. I know everything.”

*

When the resistance breaks through into the Tower, Corvo abandons his post to find Delilah. He Blinks four times in quick succession, climbing the internal structure of the Tower. He finds Billie and Delilah in the old Chapel, where the painting of the Void dominates the room. “They’re here,” he says, panting a little with exertion of so many Blinks.  

“The circle?” Delilah demands.

Corvo makes an impatient gesture. “The outside defences must have fallen. The inner circle is in the foyer right now, fighting off a horde of Overseers.”

Delilah snarls something uncomplimentary and shoves Billie's shoulder. “Get down there!” she hisses. 

Billie takes his wrist and they race down the hall together, pausing just before entering the room. He can hear the fighting, it's intensely loud and it's hard to hear Billie over it. “What's your plan, Attano?” she asks him.

“Uh, to be honest I don't really have one right now,” he said with a nervous bark of laughter. “Best I've got? Don't die.”

With that, Corvo Blinks up onto the second floor, tossing out fistfulls of thorns at anything that gets too close. He sees few people he recognizes, mostly Overseers. He manages to stay out of the thick of it until a witch he doesn't know well corners Burton.

She's deflecting his knives with ease and Corvo knows he won't have time to go for his pistol. 

Corvo Blinks forward, landing behind the witch. He picks up one of Gerome’s fallen knives and makes a split second decision. It's easy to slid e the weapon into her throat, easier still to pull out, letting the blood spray, thick and arterial over the tiles.

He meets Gerome's eyes and Blinks back up to his post. 

It had been some time since he'd willfully taken a life. Since his time as a butcher in Cullero, killing anyone that ventured too close in his quest to drag Emily back from death. 

After he'd realized his destruction had yielded nothing but death and dishonor, Corvo had given it up. He'd sworn never to take a life again in anger.

Corvo isn't angry now.

After seeing Gerome, he begins seeing others, first Havelock and Slackjaw, then Thomas and finally, Daud.

They're fighting back to front, seamless and untouchable.  Sabina appears next to him, a streak of blood across her nose. “Where's Aurelia?” she demands. 

“Outside the fighting,” Corvo calls back. “She's safe.”

She nods, then disappears, but Corvo tracks her into the thick of the fighting. She unsheathes her blade, cutting deep into one of her sister witches.

There's a pause, a lull, as everyone watches her pull the blade out. The witch drops to the floor, blood everywhere. Deliberately, Sabina steps over her corpse, standing next to Slackjaw.

A handful of thorns grows in her palm and Sabina flings them. It breaks the shocked pause of battle and the witches fight twice as hard now that one of their own has so openly betrayed them.

He watches Daud carefully, only intervening when he can get away with it.

This fight isn't his, and he must save his strength for Delilah.

It feels as though hours pass, though logically he knows it's only minutes. The Witcher are tough, but there are fewer of them, as more thugs wielding fire and Overseers with their grenades pour through the door.

He sees them fall in slow motion. Sabina Blinks directly into a witches blade,  staring down in numb horror  at the hilt standing straight in her chest.  

Sabina staggers, but doesn't fall. An Overseer with dark skin and a kind face comes out of the fight to grab her, hauling her bodily away and Corvo readies himself to Blink down there when he hears Daud's voice. 

“ _ Billie _ !”

Her name is torn from him, the sound echoing with rage and despair and something Corvo can't place. He finds them easily, by the stairs, Billie clutching a dagger in her chest. 

Blood drips from her mouth when she says something, too low for him to hear. 

Just before he Blinks down there to help or defend, Delilah appears, and she grabs him. “Crow, we must go!”

“What about…?” he asks, but Delilah makes an impatient noise.

“There is no time!”

He takes one last look, sees Billie and Daud together, and reels in Delilah. 

He presses their foreheads together, and Blinks.

*

Once they get to the chapel, the smell of paint is so thick he chokes on it. “Here,” she says, handing him a dark blade of obsidian and iron. “Blood will open the portal.”

Privately Corvo thinks enough blood has been spilled today to fill the ocean, but he rolls up his sleeve anyway to slice open his arm. 

She collects the blood in a basin, then dips her paintbrush in it, scrawling familiar sigils over the painting. 

With each stroke, the blood glows until they overpower the light in the room. Once her circle of runes are completed, the painting wavers, rippling.

There's a sound like a snap, and then the portal is open.

Delilah smiles, and behind her, so does Corvo.

Together, they step through the painting into the Void, Delilah in the lead, and Corvo’s lip curls behind her back. He’s been to this part of the Void before, in his sleep - the living vines are gone at least, but the strange statues of hooded and robed men are still standing.

Delilah walks over to the pedestal and spreads her hands over it. “Do you know what this place is, Crow?” she asks, turning to look over her shoulder at him.

He shakes his head. “No,” he says, stepping through the statues. “Where are we?”

“This,” Delilah says with sickening relish, “is the heart of the Void - the place the Outsider was made, the place where I tore his humanity away.”

Corvo turns to look around, hiding his expression by the curtain of his hair. “The Outsider was once human?” he asks instead, to keep her talking.

“Oh, yes,” Delilah says, her voice a sing-song . “For all his stories, his insistence, he was once a boy, sacrificed here for the Void to have an avatar. They cut his throat, and the blood ran out .  I found this place, during my research into the Void . I lured him here, and pulled the Void  _ out _ .”

Corvo joins her, leaning his hip against the pedestal where his best friend was murdered. “And…” he wonders, “ w hat do you plan on doing now?” 

“We wait,” Delilah says simply. “Leviathan won’t ignore us for long.”

“No,” Corvo agrees quietly. “I don’t imagine he will.”

He sits, leaning back on his hands, reaching out his awareness for the darkness that the Outsider has become. Delilah turns, sitting next to him, curling into his side. It’s harder here to pretend to enjoy her casual affection, harder to keep from flinching. 

Corvo is ready for this to be  _ over _ . 

Closing his eyes, Corvo turns his focus inward. Leviathan has never taken long to find him, or Daud, he imagines it will be the same now as it was the last time they’d tangled.

A minute passes, then another, and that’s when he feels it. 

The Darkness at the edge of the platform  _ moves _ .

Delilah is on her feet before Corvo is, but he feels no real need to rush. Leviathan is quiet, it’s many thousands of eyes trained on them, and Delilah reaches out a hand. 

“I’m the one who freed you from your prison,” she says  announces . “I can bring you out into the physical world.”

Leviathan regards her, eyes unblinking. 

Corvo stands slowly, ready for Leviathan to attack. By the time he’s on his feet, it’s already moving, swarming through, then past Delilah, and Corvo Blinks out of the way, standing near the edge. “Not today, old friend,” he says.

He can feel the shift, sees it in the way Delilah turns to face him, the wealth of knowledge on her face. “Crow…” she says, it’s a warning he ignores.

Instead, Corvo smiles, shaking his head. “My name,” he says clearly, ringing in the eerie silence of the Void, “is Corvo Attano.”

The growing anger on her face is wiped entirely away by shock. “Jessamine’s lover?” she whispers. 

**LORD PROTECTOR** , Leviathan says, the Void shaking with the force of it’s voice. 

Corvo inclines his head. “Jessamine’s lover,” he agrees. “Lord Protector.” 

Leviathan sweeps across the stone, taking a place behind Corvo’s left shoulder. For once, having it this close doesn’t worry him. 

“You betrayed me,” Delilah says, hand going for her blade. 

“I was never yours. What was between us was a lie.” 

She  _ screams _ , staggering him, Blinking forward to attack. Corvo fends her off, blocking her strike with his own, shoving her back. 

“This is my world,” she shrieks at him. “The world as it should be!”

Corvo scoffs. “This world is  _ dead _ ,” he says. “You killed it, like you killed Dunwall. You’ve meddled with things you don’t understand, and you’re  _ lucky _ , that’s all. Lucky to be alive, lucky to have magic, lucky people were too afraid of your power to stand up to you.”

When Delilah leaps at him again, he treats her to her own medicine. Pulling on the power of Leviathan just behind, Corvo  _ screams. _

She stumbles backward, and Corvo advances. It’s time to end this.

The cercis flowers drop off his collar. A cool breeze blows through the Void, disturbing the mulberry in his hair, letting it hang loose and clear. As he steps toward Delilah with even, deliberate malice, he can see the pallor of his skin darken with his natural tan, the way the tainted magic she instilled in her followers drains away to drip dark oil to the ground.

Delilah screams again.

Corvo smoothly dodges, pulling the thorns out of his skin to leave them scattered at his feet. This is the moment he’s been waiting for; he is Leviathan, Leviathan is him.

When Delilah swipes at him again, Corvo grabs her wrist.

“It’s over, Delilah,” he says, and lets the Void turn everything a cold silver. Magic washes over them, and Delilah struggles, ripping her wrist away.

The thorns she flings at him makes him duck, and with a cry of triumph, she slams her sword into his belly.

Corvo stumbles, going to one knee in front of her. 

In all his imaginings, in all his projected outcomes, he’d never expected to get hurt. Delilah leaves him there, Blinking past him toward Leviathan. Blood is pouring out of him, dripping down his fingers but Corvo turns reaching out with his magic, with the Void, and casts.

Blood, the Outsider had explained to him once, was a powerful lubricant for magic and spells. Most of the time, heretics were only fancy herbalists, people who knew too much but not quite enough to break the barrier between the Void and the physical world. Witches, he’d gone on to tell Corvo, were too far in the Void, one foot in, one foot out. The Marked, like him, were able to use the magic with few of the consequences, making them the most dangerous of the three things.

Corvo, the Outsider had said, with as much of a smile as he was capable of, had somehow managed to become all three.

Stone winds its way around Delilah’s ankles, holding her to the ground. She twists, staring down at her feet in horror as it climbs up her legs, enveloping her knees. “What?” she whispers, as the Mark on her hand flashes and flashes uselessly. “Crow?”

He climbs to his feet, heedless of the blood running down him. “This,” he says, twisting magic up her thighs, over her waist, holding her utterly immobile, “is for the Outsider.” 

The stone crawls over her chest, encasing her reaching arms. The frantic flashing of her Mark dies, and she blinks, a tear slowly making its way down her cheek. “I loved you,” she whispers. 

“The only person you have ever loved, Delilah Copperspoon,” Corvo says, staring her down, “was yourself.”

Her laugh is a broken thing, as the stone slowly creeps up her throat. “If I was Jessamine,” she wonders, “would you have loved me?” 

Corvo inhales sharply , but i t’s too late to answer her; Delilah is stone. 

**NOW?** Leviathan asks.

Corvo takes a labored step backward, putting distance between him and the statue. “No,” he says softly. “Not today.”

The Portal opens at his touch, and whatever power has been moving him fails him. 

He falls.

*


	20. 20. DAUD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Recovery was going apace; but Corvo and the witches still hadn't woken up yet._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, y'all - the last chapter of Gathering of Bones. This story is so near and dear to my heart, thank you all so much for going on this journey with me. As ever, this is for my beloved Dani, Lex, Estora, Aeniala, Luci, and everyone who has supported me (special thanks to cobain_cleopatra, whiskeyandcigars, Sera, and all of you who left comments).
> 
> I can be found on [Tumblr](http://missdreawrites.tumblr.com/), for all your needs. I follow back and I love conversation.
> 
> Please see the end of the chapter for the rest of the notes.
> 
> Thank you, all of you, once again.

“He'll be fine,” Piero reassures him for what feels like the twentieth time. “Whatever has affected the other witches in Delilah’s coven, it is not the reason he is unconscious.”

“Then what is?” Daud asks through gritted teeth.

Annoyed, Sokolov stands from his place by Corvo's side. “He is malnourished, dehydrated, suffering from exhaustion, and he was recently _stabbed_ ,” Sokolov snaps. “He is unconscious because his body needs to be and he'll wake up when he's ready.”

Daud subsides with a snarl, stalking over to where Corvo is laid out on the bed. He has a needle in the back of his hand, converted electrical tubing running out of it into an upside down flask.

“It's a saline solution,” Piero explains, squinting at the tubes. “To rehydrate him. If it runs out, you'll have to replace it.”

Daud waves an irritable hand at him. “I know basic medicine,” he snaps.

“I know,” Piero says mildly. “It was simply a reminder.”

Sokolov rolls his eyes, pushing a metal cart over to Corvo's bedside. One of the wheels squeals with teeth-clenching pitch, and deposits several things on it.

“A flask of saline,” he says, pointing. “Four small syringes of vitamins, minerals and electrolytes. Two of my elixirs for when his bandages need changing. Come get me if his condition worsens.”

Piero waits by the door, and lets Sokolov go through first. “We have begun the process of synthesizing a new Cure batch,” he says. “We’ll be in the lab.”

Daud grunts but doesn't otherwise acknowledge them. He settles in the chair next to Corvo's bed, peeking under his blanket to see if the wound in his side is still oozing or if the gauzy fabric is turning red.

The room is overfull,with Corvo having the bed farthest from the door. Billie is in the bed next to him, her breathing shallow but steady. The rest of the witches had been transported to the ruins of Holger Square, where Clemente, Darnell and Khulan were organizing rebuilding efforts.

Slackjaw, the members of the Hatters, Eels, and Bottle Street had all received official Pardons from Emily and the ones who had fought Delilah were busy training up a new City Watch.

Recovery was going apace; but Corvo and the witches still hadn't woken up yet.  

Sokolov had described what happened to the witches as some sort of psychic shock, that having Delilah's magic removed from them had sent them into a fugue state. Billie too, was insensate on her bed, her wounds healing but without thought.

Corvo, despite being Marked, did not have the same symptoms of Delilah's lack.

The back of his hand is still slightly black, as though burned from the inside, though the more time passes, the clearer his skin becomes.  

Daud sits in the uncomfortable chair by Corvo’s bedside, leaning his head back against the wall. He half dozes, leg up on the edge of Corvo’s bed to feel in case he moves. He’s not aware of the passage of time until he hears a foot on the stairs that rouses him from his vigil.

Emily appears in the doorway a second later, chewing her lip nervously. “How is he?” she asks quietly.

“The same,” Daud answers. He moves his legs so she can sit on the edge of Corvo’s bed. “Where’s your security team?”

She makes a vague gesture. “Bottom of the stairs,” Emily answers. “Alexi and Mr. Burton are really kind but, I miss father. And you.” She gives him a briefly pointed glare before taking Corvo’s hand and running her fingers over his scarred knuckles.

“There’s a lot of wounded,” Daud says defensively. “You don’t need me down there.”

Emily presses her lips together, looking down at the bandages on Corvo’s chest. “I need you more than you think,” she admits. “Alexi and Mr. Burton are fine protectors, but they aren’t my father or you. Admiral Havelock is a good advisor but right now it’s all about clean up and recovery. I accepted that I would have to become Empress, but I didn’t expect to do it alone.”

Daud scowls. “You aren’t alone,” he snaps. “You are surrounded by people who can and want to help.”

She shrugs, looking away. “It’s… just harder, than I expected.”

Daud follows her gaze, fixing his eyes on Corvo’s serene face. “Princess, doubts are expected.”

“Have you ever doubted a day in your life?” Emily asks dryly.

He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly through his teeth. “Yes,” he answers her. “Once.”

Emily’s eyes shoot to his and she stares at him, open shock on her face. He lets the statement hang in the air between them, before she breaks the silence. “Mother,” she murmurs.

“As soon as I - it happened, I knew,” Daud murmurs. They’ve never talked about this part - the fact that he’d killed Jessamine had been done to death by now, but Emily had avoided speaking to him over much of the details. “It was the wrong decision; no one should ever know what it’s like to kill an Empress. Especially not… not like that.”

Her face is solemn when she meets his eyes. "I forgave you a long time ago, you know that."

Daud shakes his head. "Yes, Em, I know." he murmurs. "That's not my point." She frowns harder, digging furrows into the skin of her forehead. "Doubt is a tricky thing. When we were approached, it was just a job, the same as any other. By the time I realized... It was too late to change my course. I didn't listen to my instincts. Don't make my mistakes."

"I don't think I'm planning to assassinate anyone," Emily mutters.

That makes him roll his eyes. "No, _planning_ isn't exactly your strong suit," he snips.

Emily smacks his arm. "That's not what I meant!"

He laughs softly, catching her hand and dropping it onto Corvo's arm. "I know what you meant," he adds. "You're right though, you will likely never have cause to assassinate someone yourself - that is, of course, why you have the Whalers. No, what I'm talking about is that some day you may need to protect yourself using lethal force and you cannot doubt."

Biting her lip, Emily looks away again. "I won't," she promises.

“Just what are you telling my daughter?” Corvo’s exhausted voice murmurs from the bed.

“ _Daddy_!” Emily gasps, and flings herself onto the bed to hug him.

He grunts in pain when she connects with his chest, but wraps his free arm around Emily. “Hey sweetheart,” he murmurs.

Daud’s lungs goes painfully tight when Corvo levels his soft smile at him. “Welcome back,” he grinds out through a suddenly strangled throat.

Corvo's smile turns rueful around the edges. “I take it that I've missed a lot?” He wonders.

Emily pushes back to glare at him. “What did you do?!” she hisses. “Half way through everything the witches just collapsed. Billie, Aurelia, the enemies, they just fell, they've been unconscious ever since.”

Corvo looks down at his unmarked left hand. “I cut off their supply of magic. Think of them as going through withdrawals.” He coughs and Emily scrambles backwards to give him a cup of water. “What of our allies?” He asks, looking around the impromptu sick bay.

“Aurelia and Billie are over there,” Daud says, holding Corvo's  fingers. “A lot of Overseers fell, and a good portions of the thugs were injured. Overseer Clemente lost an eye, but he's not letting him slow him down any. Pendleton’s manservant died. And…” Daud trails off. “We found Aurelia’s twin, she died defending Slackjaw and his boys.”

Corvo flinched. “Aurelia will be devastated,” He murmurs. “What about the others? Rinaldo, Thom?”

Daud manages to find a smile. “Pip stayed behind and defended the children, that Boyle aristocrat you saved has been busy at work restoring the Bank of Dunwall with his help. Rinaldo is fine but he took a thorn to the face, he'll live but he'll scar. Thomas is fine, he's been working with Sokolov.”

“How long have I been unconscious?” Corvo asks incredulously.

“Weeks,” Emily says, irritably.

Both of Corvo's eyebrows raise. “Weeks?”

Emily scowls at him. “Sokolov called it psychic shock on top of your starvation and dehydration.”

“That…” Corvo starts to say, but Emily darts forward and covers his mouth with both her hands.

“No!” she says loudly. “You almost _died_. Who is going to be my Lord Protector if you die?”

Corvo's eyes slide to Daud. “Don't you involve me in this,” he says, smirking.

“She's your daughter too,” Corvo says, muffled behind Emily's hands.

Daud snorts. “When you're injured, she's _your_ daughter,” he says.

Emily scowls at them both, dropping her hands. “You don’t want to be my Lord Protector?” she asks, a note of hurt creeping into her voice.

Corvo sits up, ignoring the tubing connecting him to the flasks of medicine and saline. “Em, sweetheart. Of _course_ I do,” he says, cupping her face with his free hand. “But look at me. Even if I cut my hair or gave up the magic,” here, his eyes flash a familiar silver, “I am too different now.”

Her eyes fill with tears. “But…”

“You have me, Princess,” Daud sighs. “I'll be your Lord Protector.”

“And I'll be your Spymaster,” Corvo finishes. Emily doesn't look convinced and Corvo pulls her into a hug. “It doesn't matter, Em. Protector or not, I'm always going to be your father. I'm not going anywhere.”

“Promise?” Emily asks.

Corvo smiles, kissing the top of her head. “Promise.”

*

The Void is angry.

Daud wakes up half submerged in thick, gooey black liquid, and he fights his way free with no little effort. When he finally makes it onto solid ground, he barely recognizes his surroundings. The sky is a slate grey with broken cracks of black and teal light, strange creatures darting between the breaks in the clouds.

He shakes off the black gunk, slicking it off his arms.

Daud turns in a slow circle, stepping away from the black gunk. “Corvo?” He calls and the voice echoes back, his voice coming back mutated and broken.

The stone and marble platforms that litter the Void are connected by strings of sticky inky gunk. It drips from stone, from lamps and trees.

Daud jumps from one platform to the next, slipping in oil, going to one knee. “Corvo!” He barks, and this time, there is no echo.

A low growl slides across the wasteland of the Void, and Daud grabs his sword.

It's likely useless against whatever is in the Void now, but having it solid and real in his hand is a comfort.

“Corvo!” He bellows.

There's no answer.

He treks across the floating rocks, sidestepping the oozing black gunk, until he climbs up onto a short ledge.

The oil is _everywhere_. It's draining from each platform, filling the bottom of the Void with roiling liquid.

A great fin breaks the surface of the oil, and as Daud startles back a step as a mass of… _something_ follows the fin. It's got a mouthful of teeth, and Daud watches it carefully as it sinks back below into the depths.

“Damnit Corvo, where are you!?” He shouts, once the oil slick stays motionless for several minutes.

“... _vo, where are you?”_ his voice says mockingly back at him.

He looks for the nearest platform, taking a running start and leaping the gap. He's almost short, slipping on the ledge. Daud scrambles for purchase - he does not want to be anywhere near the black ooze making up the internal ocean of the Void.

He slides another inch down and his sword clatters to disappear into the depths.

The rock cracks, and black oil begins running toward his face. Daud let's go of the ledge, dropping to grab hold with his fingers. The black ooze runs off, slicking down his back.

“Son of a bitch!” He swears, struggling to lift himself back up, but the rocks are wet and his fingers have little to find purchase on.

There's a flare of panic low in his gut, and Daud starts to fall.

“Corvo!” He yells, a last hope.

Again, there's no answer, not even his own voice.

He wonders, briefly, what it means if he dies in the Void.

Just as his left hand slides off the rock, something touches his foot.

He startles badly, and his right hand slips off the rock. Daud doesn't even have time to shout as gravity fails him.

This time Corvo isn't here to save him.

Daud lands on something soft and fleshy, and he wipes away black ooze from his eyes to see himself sitting on the back of a whale so large and massive that he can't see where it begins and the black water ends.

It shakes below him, with a low familiar sound and slowly begins to rise out of the water, depositing Daud back on the platform. He stands, looking down at the massive whale, and meets the great eye of the creature.

It's the size of a small skiff, and it fixes him with an unblinking stare. “Thank you?” He says.

Slowly, the great whale disappears again, lowering itself slowly into the water.

“What the fuck,” he says with feeling.

“You know,” Corvo says from behind him, “When I was saved by a whale, I only got a small one.”

Daud spins.

Corvo, in full Crow regalia stands crouched on a large rock. “Corvo!”

Teal Voidlight gleams off the edges of Corvo's crow mask, as he stands up. He takes a step and transverses down to Daud, a half smile on his face.

“I don't think I've worn this mask in months,” he says absently.

Daud steps forward and pulls the mask away from Corvo’s face, tossing it to one side. Corvo remains unchanged beneath it, and his smile widens. “Did you miss me?”

“You,” Daud growls.

Corvo tilts his head down, kissing Daud briefly. “Me,” he agrees.

“Where have you been?” Daud asks against Corvo's mouth.

“Looking for you,” Corvo says.

Daud rolls his eyes but doesn't let go of Corvo’s arms. “Any idea how to get out of here?”

Corvo sighs but shakes his head. “No. Last time I was stuck in here, I escaped through the water.” He gestures to the thick oily spread across the base of the Void. “But that option seems rather closed to us now,” he adds.

“Any other ideas?” Daud asks.

Corvo tilts his head in thought. “Delilah,” he says.

“... What?”

Corvo pulls back, pointing behind himself. “Delilah's painting!” He exclaims. “I can find it again, my magic is all over it, and if all the witches fell unconscious when Delilah died, then no one bothered to close her portal. We find where I killed her, we find the way home.”

Daud nods. “How do we do that?” He asks.

Corvo flexes his left hand, though there's nothing on its back. “I know what my magic feels like,” he answers.

“Fine,” Daud says. “Lead the way.”

There's a pause as Corvo closes his eyes. Daud tightens his grip on his arm as slowly, teal Voidlight slides into Corvo’s tattoos.

“That way,” he murmurs, turning around. Corvo holds out his hand to Daud. “You trust me?”

Daud rolls his eyes. “Of course I do,” he mutters, ill-tempered.

Corvo grins and laces their fingers together. “Come on, I'll Blink us higher.”

“Great,” Daud drawls. “Secondhand transversal, my favorite thing.”

“Could always be worse,” Corvo points out philosophically.

He tightens his grip on Corvo’s hand. “Kindly explain how?”

The world dissolves in a flare of ash and feathers, and Daud finds himself standing on a different rock formation, the black oily water forming a pool around them. “We could both be without magic?” Corvo answers, balancing with enviable poise on a small tower of rubble, his fingers still wrapped around Daud’s.

“Thanks for the reminder,” Daud mutters sourly. He is _tired_ of reaching for magic that isn’t there, and more tired of wishing for things to be different.

Corvo pulls him up onto the rubble, which tilts precariously under their shared weight.

“I know,” he  murmurs. “Sorry.”

Daud sighs. “I’ll learn eventually,” he says. “I suppose I’ll have to.”

Corvo makes a face, chewing on the corner of his lip. “There would be another way,” he says slowly. Daud raises an eyebrow at him. “I could… give in,” he says, gesturing to the dying Void. “Accept Leviathan’s offer, and take the Outsider’s place.”

“ _What!_ ” Daud snarls.

“I would wield the ability to Mark you, like he did. I could give you back your power.”

Daud yanks his hand away from Corvo’s, shoving it into his chest. “Absolutely _not_ , are you out of your mind?!”

Corvo smiles, a sad twist of his lips. “Leviathan will find me eventually, Daud.”

“I forbid it. If not for my sake, then for Emily’s. I will learn to function without magic, do not make us learn to function without _you_.”

“Alright,” Corvo says, soft. “Alright, I won’t.” Daud goes to move forward but the rocks under his feet shift alarmingly, and Corvo transverses them again, this time across a large gap onto a smaller platform. A single whale oil lantern floats in the air between them.

A breeze picks up, disturbing Corvo’s hair, and the folds of their coats. “We need to keep moving,” Daud growls. “But we’re not dropping this one.”

That makes Corvo smile. “Yes, I know.” He laces their fingers together, transversing away from the whale oil lantern, and onto a different floating rock. They are nearly sideways, standing somehow horizontal, and the world dips for one terrifying second before Corvo transverses them again.

They come to a stop on a large rock, spears of shale making walls, blocking them in.

Daud has been here before.

There are statues of men, all hooded and robed, facing an empty alter. He turns, following Corvo’s gaze and takes a half step back.

Standing by the empty altar is another statue, this one far more familiar. “Delilah.”

“Yes,” Corvo says. “She grew to regret giving me her Mark.”

“How’d you do it?” Daud wonders, stepping closer and circling the statue.

Corvo shrugs. “I tapped into the Heart of the Void and used it against her.”

“What does that mean?” Daud asks, stopping to look over at him.

Rueful, Corvo gestures to the altar he stands by. “This is where all great Deities of the Void are made,” he answers. “I borrowed my power from Leviathan, because in that moment, the enemy of my enemy was my friend.”

Daud swears long and vicious. “You _used Leviathan_?” he hisses.

“Yes,” Corvo says without a drop of remorse. “I did. And I would do it again.” He steps around Delilah’s statue, and points. “The part of the rock that held the portal has moved. We have to keep going.”

“I won’t forget this part either,” Daud mutters, taking Corvo’s arm again.

“Yes, _amante_ , I know,” Corvo says, far too indulgently for Daud’s liking.

They transverse from rock to rock for another minute before Corvo stumbles to a stop. The wind is a blasting pressure now, spreading the smell of rot and decay through the Void.

“We’re running out of time,” Daud warns him.

They guard each other against the wind as Corvo’s tattoos flash brighter. Another second, and they’d be blown away, when: “There!” Corvo says, pulling Daud close to him and transversing closer to the swirling portal that leads to Dunwall.

They land hard and Daud grabs Corvo for balance. “Come on!”

Together they make it to the edge of the portal and Corvo throws a fistful of  magic at it, opening the crack in the world just wide enough for them to slip through.

“ _... My Corvo?”_

Daud freezes but Corvo goes so still he doesn't look like he's breathing. Slowly, Daud turns, and there, on the ledge where they'd landed only moments ago, stands the Outsider.

He's transparent, flickering, like a specter or a ghost. Daud reaches over and turns Corvo to face him, fingers tight on Corvo’s elbow. “Outsider?” Corvo breathes.

The Outsider quirks a small smile, tilting his head to the side. “Such as I am,” he agrees quietly with none of the echoing grandeur in his voice. “I don't have much time.”

At Daud's encouraging push, Corvo half steps, half transverses to the Outsider, one hand outstretched. Seemingly by habit or instinct, the Outsider reaches out for him.

And Corvo passes straight through him.

“Oh…” Corvo murmurs.

The Outsider flickers again, forming and reforming. “I seem to be in the unenviable position of requiring your help,” he says.

“What do you need?” Daud asks.

There's a long pause, and the Outsider steps away from Corvo. “Come find me,” he answers.

“Wait!” Corvo gasps, but it's too late.

Leviathan slams onto the edge of the platform with a roar, and the Outsider disappears into the boiling mass of Darkness. **FOUND YOU** , it snarls.

“Corvo!” Daud barks, and then he's in Daud’s arms. They're through the portal a second later, tumbling head first through it and landing inside the chapel, both on their backs.

The swirling vortex in the painting dissipates, leaving them alone in the room.

Daud swallows twice through a suddenly dry throat. “So,” he says hoarsely. “... The Outsider is alive.”

Corvo scrambles upward, turning to Daud with eyes alight with hope. “The Outsider is alive!" he breathes. “We _have_ to go back in there.”

Slowly Daud nods. “To the Void?”

“Yes,” Corvo murmurs, a breathless joy clinging to him. “We’re going back to the Void.”

*tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The third fic, "The Song Inside the Bone" is in the process of being written! However, July and August are my two most busiest months due to the convention that caused me to update a day late - I spent all day yesterday in a car (seriously, all day). I haven't had a lot of time over these last two months to write or do anything except work and work on my Convention. So, it is with hope and a slice of regret that I announce that "The Song Inside the Bone" will begin being posted on September 4th, giving me some time to write more than the little I've ended up with. It is, like always, a Monday on the Eastern Seaboard. 
> 
> My other fic will continue being posted on Fridays as it has already been completed. 
> 
> I will see all of you on September the 4th. Hope to see you then! <3


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